


Christmas Carols From The Heart - Advent Calendar

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Advent Ficlet Challenge 2018, Angst, Cats, Childhood Memories, Christmas Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Hallucinations, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Perthshire Cottage, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Pregnancy, Snowed In, and cuddles, lots of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 22,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: My contribution for the Advent Ficlet Challenge 2018 by missdaviswrites. 24 short ficlets. (Mostly) Fluff.~Latest:Day 18 (Gift): Jemma and Fitz are stucked in their car because of a snow storm. It's freezing. Jemma has an idea how to stay warm. (Pre-Relationship)Day 19 (A Beautiful Sight): Jemma and Fitz are expecting their first daughter. (Baby Fic)Day 20 (Peace): Fitz has a bad day. Jemma helps.Day 21 (Feast): The team comes to visit Fitz and Jemma in their cottage on Christmas. Fitz feels a bit nervous about it.Day 22 (Celebration): Prompt by LibbyWeasley: Celebration = FS baby’s first Christmas (they would try to do something special and it would backfire because the baby is teething or has colic ... but then realize that it is already something special)Day 23 (Season's Greetings): Fitz and Jemma's daughter Peggy wants to make some Christmas cards. Fitz helps.Day 24 (Believe): Fitz wants Christmas to be a magical experience for Peggy.





	1. Prompt List

  1. ~~Holiday decor~~
  2. ~~Star~~
  3. ~~You better watch out~~
  4. ~~Snowman~~
  5. ~~Believe~~
  6. ~~Fireplace~~
  7. ~~Memories~~
  8. ~~Music~~
  9. ~~Gift~~
  10. ~~Do you see what I see~~
  11. ~~Comfort and joy~~
  12. ~~Gingerbread~~
  13. ~~Frost~~
  14. ~~A beautiful sight~~
  15. ~~Toy soldier~~
  16. ~~Season’s greetings~~
  17. ~~Warm and cozy~~
  18. ~~Celebration~~
  19. ~~Silent night~~
  20. ~~Home~~
  21. ~~Hopes and fears~~
  22. ~~Feast~~
  23. ~~Nightmare before Christmas~~
  24. ~~Peace~~




	2. Hopes and Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Fitzsimmon's first Christmas at their cottage in Perthshire. Fitz reflects how they got there and struggles with some fears. Jemma is there to reassure him and to remind him what is awaiting them in the near future.

The radio is playing a Christmas carol.

Fitz vaguely remembers the song from his childhood. His mother used to sing along while baking biscuits which were spreading a certain smell of festiveness and excitement through the whole house.

He involuntarily smiles at the memory. At the same time, he feels a longing in his heart. Back then the world was small. Small and well-known. It may not always have been a friendly world. But it was simpler. Now nothing is simple. Every thought, every feeling he has, is a complex spider web, that could easily lead him back into the darker places in his mind. Back into a panic attack – he hasn’t had one for a whole week now, which he is thankful for. And somehow proud. – or a fit of self-loathing. And he sometimes wonders, if things will ever be simple again.

At least, the world is smaller again.  
  
He’s sitting at the table in the living room of Jemma’s and his home, a mug of tea beside him and a piece of paper in front of him, on which he has been outlining his imagination of the cradle for their baby. Jemma has been pregnant for a while now. They checked it a few times, carefully happy, but still a bit disbelieving. There was no doubt, they finally realized, allowing the happiness to overwhelm them. Their baby is going to be born sometime in summer.

It's still a long time until then. Fitz knows he should rather focus on their plans for Christmas. The first Christmas which they’re going to spend in their cottage in Perthshire.

Fitz sighs. He warms his hands on the mug for a moment and then gets up to walk to the window. He takes a look outside.

It’s one of the coldest nights of this month. The sky is clear and full of stars. Under it, snow covers the meadows and the hills around. It looks silent and he can’t quite decide if the sharp contrast between sparkling white and starry darkness is beautiful or frightening.

He hears Jemma walking around in the hallway and knows that she’s still occupied with decorating.

She’s excited. Of course, she is. It’s the first time she can prepare her own home for a festivity. She probably imagined it a lot in the past. Fitz knows that Jemma loves Christmas. Altough she's not interested in the religious meaning of it, she loves the spirit. The lights and the music. The food and the presents. They have even invited Jemma’s parents and Fitz’s mother over for the next days. They are going to tell them about the baby. A special Christmas gift for them all.

There will be tea and self-made chocolate and orange biscuits. A Christmas tree decorated in bright lights. A calm fire that provides warmth against the snowy breeze from the outside.

It all feels so … normal, Fitz thinks. Sometimes even too normal. It’s like a suspicious, somber silence before a storm. And he knows he shouldn’t think like this. Because it’s not going to be like that. Not now and not ever again.

Because they left Shield after they returned to the Lighthouse.

The decision was made sometime when they were still in space, staring at a darkness filled with strange bright colorful spots. They spent those hours, minutes, seconds, in a tight embrace. They were holding on to each other like to a life raft. Fitz was well aware that Jemma pressed her head against his chest because she wanted to hear his heartbeat. Because she needed to convince herself of his presence. They talked a lot. And eventually, Jemma asked the question that was burning inside Fitz’s mind, but he was to unsure to speak out. “Do you want to leave Shield?”

He looked at her in surprise. But her eyes were filled with determination and something like a plea. “I thought about it,” he said carefully. “But … where would we go?”

Jemma wordlessly gave him an opened letter. Inside the envelope, Fitz found a key and a single piece of paper. It was a short letter from Coulson.

_Fitz and Simmons,_

_I know you're going to be together again soon._ _Because there’s nothing in space and time that could come between you two._ _I’m sorry I can’t be at the wedding this time. But I hope you’ll be happy about my gift. This key belongs to a cottage in Perthshire._ _It’s already furnished, and the fridge and the storerooms are filled._ _Please be happy. That’s all I want for you. Because you two deserve all the happiness in the world._ _It was an honour to work with you. And it was a pleasure to know you._ _You're two of the strongest and kindest people I know. Just continue to be who you are and never give up your hopes and dreams._

_Phil Coulson_

  
After Fitz had wiped a tear out of the corner of his mind, he took the key, shaking his head in disbelief. “A cottage. In Perthshire? Like you always imagined ..."

Jemma nodded, smiling. “Yes. So what do you say?”

Fitz reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Yes,” he simply said and it was an answer to everything.

  
No one seemed to be really surprised about their decision. In fact, everyone revealed that they wanted to take some time off. Packed suitcases standing in the hallways were a common sight in those last days they spent together as a team. Mack prepared to visit his brother, together with Yo-Yo. Daisy wanted to pay Gabe a visit, in the hope to also meet Robbie

They’re scattered to the four winds now. And yet, they are close in thoughts and memories.

  
When Fitz and Jemma arrived at their new home, they felt a little bit lost. They were standing in the big cottage, looking around and at each other with wide open, wondering eyes.

The first days were difficult. Anxiety and uncertainness were like a wall between them. It didn’t take them long to realize, that they couldn’t do this alone. They found a therapist and fought through layers of unprocessed trauma. They fought for their hopes of a happy life. And after months, when they laid in their bed, Jemma started to touch him and Fitz didn’t recoil. He doesn’t think that she got pregnant in that exact night, but somehow he hopes it.

Now they’re here. And everything is alright. Normal. Simple.

And he shouldn’t think like this, but … _But what if, he asks himself desperately. What if something will separate us again, what if this is going to end? Or what if I'm not enough. What if Jemma can't be as happy as she could be because of me? What if she only says she's happy because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings but actually she knows it's never going to be like she imagined? Or what if ..._

“Fitz?” Jemma comes into the room.

Fitz flinches slightly and turns his head to quickly smile at her. She returns his look and frowns.

And he knows she reads him like an open book. 

“What’s bothering you, love?” She asks, wrapping her arms around him from behind and laying her head on his shoulder.

“My stupid thoughts,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “They’re just trying to lead me into wrong directions again.”

“Oh Fitz. Your thoughts are never stupid. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m just … I can’t stand the thought that this could be over. Everything … everything good always had an end. It never went on. And I know … I know it’s different now, but still. I just don’t want to lose this,” he murmurs and sighs.

“That’s just normal, Fitz,” she tells him, her voice tickling the skin on his neck. “It’s normal to be scared. After everything we’ve been through … I still have nightmares about being back on Maveth. Without you. Alone. Without the hope to ever return.” She shudders. “But now we can fight this back. Because we’ve help, and we know what to do now. And that dangerous part of our life is over. Hope is stronger than fear. Especially when we know that the things we fear are either in the past or too far away from us now to get true.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, closing his eyes and enjoying to feel her warm breath on his skin.

Another Christmas song starts to play in the radio and they both groan. Last Christmas …

“This has to be the most hated yet most played song of all times,” Fitz mumbles

Jemma giggles. She turns Fitz around so they can hug and sinks into his embrace with a content sigh. “I was thinking about how Christmas is going to be with our children,” she says dreamily.

Fitz smiles into her hair. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yes. Just imagine …” She lays a hand on her stomach, which is still flat. But the knowledge alone, that there’s a life growing inside of her, a little human being, is enough to make Fitz’s heart beat faster with happy disbelief, and he lays one of his hands onto hers. “Their sparkling eyes when they see the Christmas tree and the presents. Their excitement and glee when they start to play with their new toys.

“And their many, many questions,” Fitz mumbles. “Where does Santa live? Who helps him to hand out the presents? Can reindeers really fly? All of them?” He chuckles. All the questions he once asked his own mother.

“Are you going to dress up as Santa for them?” Jemma asks him, grinning.

Fitz laughs. “To be honest I would rather be an elf. You can be Santa, if you want to.”

“Oh, I forgot that you love that elf movie with Will Ferrell so much. Well, I don’t mind being Santa at all.”

“That's settled then,” Fitz says, kissing her forehead.

They both turn around, when they hear the door opening. Deke walks in, spreading snow on the floor. His face is hidden behind a scarf, but Fitz sees his eyes glowing in a certain glee.

Deke walks towards them and shows them two big shopping bags. “I brought you something!” He muffles into the scarf and puts the bags on the table. He reaches into them and pulls out some of the ugliest Christmas sweaters Fitz has ever seen.  
  
“I got one for all of us!” His grandson exclaims happily. “Here!” He throws one of them to Fitz and he catches it, looking at it, frowning. It’s bright blue and has snowflakes and a reindeer on it. The animal has a red nose. “Is this Rudolf The Red Nosed Reindeer?” Fitz asks, slightly amused.

Deke blinks at him. “Rudolf?” He asks. “Who’s Rudolf?”

“I’ll show you the movie sometime,” Fitz says unsurprised, and runs his fingers over the fabric of the sweater. He looks at Deke and sees the hope and careful anticipation in his grandson’s eyes. Fitz sighs and pulls the sweater over his shirt. It scratches slightly, but it’s surprisingly cozy. “Thanks Deke,” he says.

Deke beams at him. He gives another sweater to Jemma. It’s actually quite nice, red and with a Christmas tree on it. She looks at him lovingly and puts it on too.

Their grandson finally takes off his jacket and scarf. The next moment, he looks at Fitz and Jemma excitedly and starts to ramble on. “Hey, you two, you know what? I read everything about Christmas! We need mince pies!” He says excitedly. “I read that you have to put them on a plate for Santa! As a treat. And I need a sock. For the presents. Oh no, I think I don’t have any clean big socks left anymore.” He scrunches up his nose and disappears up the stairs, to his room, mumbling to himself. “I have to find a really big one. Because how do you put presents into small socks … No way …”

Fitz looks at Jemma, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe we won’t even have to wait until another Christmas. We already have a kid here.” He shakes his head.

Jemma smiles at him, putting on her own ugly Christmas sweater. “He never celebrated it this way Fitz, don’t forget that. Maybe we can surprise him. Just for fun …”

“Okay, I’ll eat the mince pies for Santa,” Fitz says.

Jemma giggles and Fitz’s heart warms up at the noise. He’s home with his family and the next days will be filled with nice, simple things. Things that are fun. Something to look forward to.


	3. Holiday decor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma is alone at home and watches the falling snow, when suddenly a new friend literally falls from the skye ... (Fitzsimmons, different first meeting)

It’s December and Jemma’s alone at home. She is sitting on the couch, close to the heating, and looks out of the window. Snowflakes are floating through the air softly, joining together on trees, cars and streets. Everything is already covered by a thick white blanket.

The view is lovely. A bit hypnotizing and quite soothing.

But suddenly, she hears a strangely unfitting noise somewhere above her. A grunt, followed by a shocked “No!”

Jemma frowns.

A little avalanche of snow trickles down from above.

Followed by a body.

  
"Oh God!” Jemma exclaims, frozen in place. She flinches when she hears a dull thump. She could swear her heart has just missed a beat.

Did … did someone just fall out of a window?!

When she is able to breathe again, Jemma hectically opens the window and stretches out her head, looking down. She swallows when she sees the body laying in the snow. It’s the boy living one floor above her. What’s his name again. Oh. Yes. Fitz. Leopold Fitz. He moved in some time ago and came down for a short hello.

He lays face down in the deep snow, his arms stretched out beside him. His curls surround his head like a halo. He’s not moving.

Jemma clears her throat. “Are you alright?” She asks anxiously.

She hears a quiet groan and sighs in relieve, when he moves a little bit.

He can’t be too seriously injured, she thinks. Still, he could have broken bones. Or a concussion. Jemma bites her lip.

“Just … wait, I’m coming down!” She calls and closes the window. She runs to the door and only just remembers to take her key with her before she slams it shut and rushes down the stairs. 

When she opens the front door, Fitz is still laying in the snow motionlessly.

She crouches down beside him, breathing quickly. “Hey,” she shakes his shoulders and bends over him. “Shall I call an ambulance? Are you hurt? Can you feel your legs? Are you …”

He groans again, louder this time. Then, he turns around and Jemma stops talking, because she’s looking into the bluest eyes she has ever seen and that’s a bit distracting. For some reason. 

“Um,” she makes and blushes a bit, when she notices, how close they are. She can even feel his breath on her skin. She sits back on her knees and shuffles a bit away from him. “Are you alright?” She asks again.

He squints up at the open window from which he fell. “Bloody snow,” he mumbles. He starts to sit up slowly, grimacing and grabbing his right arm. “Ouch …”

“Are you okay?” Jemma asks. One too many times, she tells herself dryly. Get yourself together Simmons, it isn’t like he fell from third floor or something. It was only the second. Well. That’s still quite high. But the snow must have cushioned his fall.

Fitz finally starts to talk. “Yeah … I think it’s just a sprain,” he murmurs and rubs his right shoulder. He looks at her with a frown. “You’re … Jemma, right? Jemma Simmons.”

“Yes,” she says and for the first time she’s outside, she realizes how cold it is. It makes her shiver and her fingers are a bit numb. She rubs them on her sweater. Fitz watches her. He doesn’t say anything. His face is flushed. But Jemma doesn’t know if it’s because of the cold or because of embarrassment.

The silence makes her nervous. But she doesn’t really know what to say. Finally she asks him, “Why did you fall out of the window?”

He blinks, and his blush intensifies. “I just wanted to make my Mum happy,” he murmurs, still rubbing his shoulder. “I wanted to put up the Christmas lights for her …”

“Oh. I see.” Jemma remembers that Fitz lives alone with his mother. She doesn’t know about his father. They moved in without him. It’s nice from him, she thinks, to want to surprise his mother. But he really should care more about safety …

“Well,” she says. “Maybe you should have used a ladder. Then you wouldn’t have slipped on the snow on your windowsill!”

He lowers his gaze. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. I don’t have a ladder this high though.”

Jemma gasps. “But I have one! I mean, we. My father has one in the garage. We could put your lights up together, you know?”

Fitz looks up at her, surprised. “Really?”

“Sure! Next time, you want to do something like this, just come to ask for help. Then you won’t have to risk falling out of your window.”

Fitz grins. “Yeah. Um. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They look at each other, not yet knowing that this is only the beginning for something, but already feeling a certain attraction in the air between them. And they smile.


	4. Gingerbread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma has a stressful day. When she comes home, a surprise is waiting for her.

Jemma sighs and drums a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel with her fingertips, while the car in front of her stops yet again.

_Bloody snow._

She likes snow. She really does. It’s lovely to see the world under a white blanket while the flakes float through the air and light the cold nights. But when it causes a traffic jam, that causes her to arrive at home much later than feared, she feels like she could really do without the wet white masses everywhere.

The queue of cars moves only very slowly. It gives her time to think about the day which has been quite stressful. She has been in town, attended her therapy session, then went shopping for Christmas. When she was finished, it had been later than she’d expected, and now this. She’s stuck in a traffic jam.

Jemma sighs again and switches through the radio channels, until she finds a Christmas Carol that’s not Last Christmas. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she arrives at the slip road, that’s going to bring her to their cottage in the countryside. Soon, she’s almost alone on the street and it’s quite a relief.

After half an hour, she stops the car in front of the cottage, that’s covered by a thick blanket of untouched, clear white snow, and gets out, shuddering in the cold and hurrying to get inside.

When Jemma opens the door, she’s met by a wave of comfy warmth and sighs relieved. She quickly enters the cottage and her eyes widen in surprise when she smells a wonderful mixture of cinnamon, punch, lemon and ginger.

Fitz stretches his head out of the kitchen and smiles at her, waving one hand, that’s in an oven glove. “Hey. You’re late.”

“The traffic,” she says distractedly, putting off her jacket, scarf and gloves. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’ve made us a little something,” he says, shrugging. His head disappears back into the kitchen. “Sit on the couch, love!” He calls, and she smiles, feeling anticipation warming her insides.

She doesn’t hesitate and sinks down on the couch in the living room, feeling the exhaustion taking over her body.

He’s carrying a tray with two steaming mugs and two plates on it. “Punch,” he says and puts one mug in front of her. “And …”

Jemma gasps when she sees what’s on the plate. “You made gingerbread,” she says amazed. She hasn’t had gingerbread for ages.

Fitz smiles. “Yeah. My mother used to make them a lot. I often helped her and apparently memorized the ingredients and steps.”

“Amazing, Fitz,” Jemma says happily. She puts her hands on the mug in front of her and sighs at the comfy warmth that meets her skin.

Fitz sits beside her and sips his punch. 

Jemma hurries to take a careful sip too. “This is delicious,” she says, looking at her mug with wide eyes and licking her lips.

“I put a bit of cinnamon and orange juice in it,” Fitz says, as if that’s a matter of course.

Jemma smiles at him and tries the gingerbread next. The taste on her tongue is so intense that she closes her eyes for a moment to feel it better. It’s Christmas and love. “And these,” she says, taking another bite, “Are even more delicious.” She sighs. “You’re so talented Fitz. Really. You should be a baker.” It's true. She can't even bake muffins without causing an almost disaster in the kitchen.

Fitz chuckles. “Well. That would be something new.”

The radio starts playing “Let It Snow”.

Outside, it’s still snowing.

Inside, it’s warm and Jemma hasn’t felt that comfy the whole week. Fitz sometime wraps them in their favourite fluffy red blanket and she feels tired, but in a good way. In a loved and save way.

She cuddles up against Fitz and lays her head on his shoulder. “You’re a lovely husband,” she whispers, kissing his cheek.

He smiles and runs a hand through her hair. It's even and soothing. She dozes off without really noticing it.

_"Oh, the weather outside is frightful_

_But the fire is so delightful_

_And since we've no place to go_

_Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow"_


	5. Nightmare Before Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tipsy Daisy gets tired of watching FitzSimmons secretly yearning for each other. She decides that they need a little push into the right direction.

It’s a rare free Sunday and Coulson decided to do an early Christmas party at the Playground. The reaction had been surprisingly enthusiastic, and now the otherwise blank and grey bunkerlike building is decorated with tinsel, lights and – for some reason – balloons. Coulson and May even cut a little tree in the snowy forest, that’s now standing in the middle of their little living room, bending under the weight of a lot of blue and red baubles they found somewhere in a box.

Daisy is sitting at the counter of their little bar, drinking the punch Simmons has made. The hot liquid is delicious and she decides to only drink this today.

She actually doesn’t know how many mugs she has already had and she thinks she might be a bit tipsy already, but who cares. It’s a free day, it’s Christmas soon, she’s together with people who care about her. She feels comfy and cozy inside. It’s maybe the first time ever she looks forward to Christmas.

The only thing, that manages to spoil her good temper today, is FitzSimmons. She’s watching them from her seat at the counter. And with every minute it gets more unbearable.

Fitz is pouring punch into Simmon’s mug right now and she giggles, saying something that makes him smile. He looks at her while she’s warming her hands at the mug, his eyes filled with adoration and something like desperation. He turns around to put the bottle of punch back on the table and in that exact moment, Simmons squints at his back with such a longing, burning gaze that Daisy almost spits out her punch.

Ugh …

 _We are just friends._ _It’s not like that_ , their usual words echoe in her head. Bla la bla. As if … These two idiots are obviously in love and she won’t be surprised if one of them will just burst sometime.

Daisy sighs. These two … they really are idiots.

 _Maybe_ , she thinks, while watching Fitz leaving the room, scratching the back of his head, _they need a bit of a push._ Daisy puts her empty mug on the counter and wipes her mouth. Jup. She’s going to do it. She’s going to give them that push. Maybe a bit harder than she needs to. Because of reasons.

You had too much punch, an inner voice tells her.

Yes, and I will need much more if I have to keep watching this tragedy between two geniuses who can't see what's right in front of them, she growls back.

She gets up and follows Fitz.

She finds him in his bunk, where he's rummaging around in his drawer.

"Here you are," she says dryly.

Fitz flinches and turns around. “Um. Hey Daisy,” he says, looking at her with a puzzled expression on his face.

“What are you doing here, if the woman of your dreams is alone in the living room, waiting for you to carry her into your bunk bridal style?” Daisy asks him.

Fitz blinks at her. “What?” He asks shocked. His face starts to get red.

Daisy groans and leans against the doorframe. Somehow, the world is swaying a bit around her. Oh damn this wonderful delicious punch. “For a genius, you’re quite dumb,” she tells him dryly.

“Beg your pardon?” Fitz asks, blinking.

“Simmons?” Daisy hints, rolling the name on her tongue in exasperation.

“What’s with Simmons?” Fitz asks. But he avoids her gaze and his face gets even redder. Checkmate. 

“You look at Simmons, like she hung the moon and is the only light in your life. And she looks at you the same or even worse,” Daisy tells him, rolling her eyes.

“I … I … it’s not like that,” Fitz stammers. But his face now can’t get any redder and there’s sweat on his forehead AND he fumbles with his hands.

Daisy sighs. “Fitz. Come on. Everyone knows.”

“Everyone … what? Why?” He stumbles.

“It’s obvious. For everyone except for you two, who somehow still manage to miss the looks you give each other. Just tell her how you feel, Fitz. Please,” Daisy begs and rubs her temples.

“But … But I’m …” He makes a helpless hand gesture at himself.

Daisy scoffs. “Are you kidding me? You think you’re not good enough for her, Mr. Blue-eyes and fluffy-curls? Damn, I would die to have natural curls … She’s literally eating you with her eyes, idiot!”

Fitz’s mouth falls open. He stares at Daisy, who pokes him in the chest and scowls at him. “Listen. I’m going to kill you if you don’t tell her!”

Fitz swallows. “Um. Okay,” he says weakly.

Daisy nods satisfied, glares at him one last time and leaves, humming something that vaguely sounds like Last Christmas.

*

It’s true.

Fitz is in love. Desperately.

And sometimes, he thought that Jemma might … well, that she might feel something too. To hear it from someone else was both frightening and relieving.

But … It’s not so simple. They've been friends for so long now … He doesn’t want to loose what they have. He thought he could bear his lovesickness. Even if that would mean he would suffer forever because he can't tell her how he really feels for her. But at least he would still have her smiles and their talks and shared jokes. _But_ , he thinks, sighing, it’s true. _I can’t do this forever._

_I have to tell her._

_But how?_

He looks into the mirror in the bathroom and tries to prepare some words. They all sound stupid and weak. But at least they’re true.

*

Simmons is outside. She’s staring up at the starry night sky with sparkling eyes. She’s beautiful and Fitz forgets every word he wanted to say. Instead he just says, “Simmons.”

She turns around and smiles at him. “Hey.”

Fitz tries to smile back and hopes it isn’t a grimace of horror. He walks towards her until he’s standing beside her and looks up at the sky too.

“The stars are beautiful today,” she whispers in awe.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He looks at her from the side and his heart thumps wildly in his chest. Tell her. Or … show her. Oh God. He thinks about kissing her and his legs feel horribly weak all of a sudden. He clears his throat. “Simmons. Um. Jemma?”

“Yes, Fitz?”

“Would it be inconvenient … I mean would you terribly mind if I … Can I kiss you?” There. Now it’s out. He holds his breath and awaits her reaction.

She exhales shakily and opens her mouth slightly.

For a horrifying moment Fitz thinks, _I fucked up. It’s over. It’s ruined …_

But that moment is gone, when Simmons lays her hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eyes, her nose almost touching his. “I wouldn’t mind at all,” she breathes.

“Oh. Good,” he says weakly and clears his throat.

She smiles at him. And suddenly it’s her, who makes the next little step. Her lips meet his feather lightly. Soft and warm. He freezes for a moment but then kisses her back and it’s a revelation. It feels right.

They kiss a few times, alternating between calm and slow, quick and passionate, exploring until they are slightly breathless.

“Let’s go to your bunk,” Jemma tells him, stroking his cheek.

“Yeah,” Fitz agrees and takes her hand.

*

In his bunk, they sit on the bed and Jemma cuddles up against him. Fitz feels like he’s floating, adrenaline and happiness filling every cell of his body and mind.

He runs a hand through Jemma’s hair and decides to thank Daisy tomorrow. For her little push into the right direction.


	6. Toy Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Fitz was a child, his father once bought him a toy soldier. Many years later, when he's in an antique store with his son, Fitz remembers it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for verbal abuse. It's short but it's there.

Leo is in an antique store for the first time and he’s allowed to pick out a toy. That’s a rare occasion and he intends to make the best of it.

While his father his talking to the seller, he searches through the shop in awe. Eventually, he finds a box with stuffed animals and starts to search through it. 

They don’t have a monkey. For a moment Leo is disappointed, but then he finds a squirrel and that’s quite close to a monkey. It’s fluffy and has warm brown eyes.

Leo smiles and touches it. He likes how the soft fur feels around his fingers. He picks the stuffed animal up and shows it to his father, whose eyes narrow.

Leo immediately knows that he did something wrong. It’s routine. And he’s right.

„Put that back,” his father sighs exasperated. The familiar expression of disappointment appears in his eyes. “It’s not for boys.“

Leo frowns. „Why?”

“Babies and little girls need stuffed animals. You’re neither Leopold.” He points at a toy soldier. “That’s a suitable toy for boys. For boys who grow up to be proper men. I’ll buy you that.”  
  
Leo tightens his fingers around the squirrel. He doesn’t like the soldier, with his hard black eyes and his gun. Soldiers fight in wars and kill each other. Leo doesn’t want to kill anyone. And he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with this little, stern figure. The squirrel could at least give him comfort when he’s scared of the darkness again or has a nightmare.

But he senses his father’s irritation and doesn’t say any of his thoughts out loud. By now, he’s smart enough to know when to keep things for himself. He just nods and puts the stuffed squirrel back.

His father nods at him satisfied at last and hands him the toy soldier.

“Thanks Dad,” Leo says and turns the wooden figure around in his hands.

Later, when he’s at home, he puts the soldier into his drawer and never looks at him again.

*

Fitz stares at the toy soldiers in the antique store and feels a memory stirring.

His father once bought him one of these. Because … Ah yes. Because Fitz had been stupid enough to think his father would buy him a stuffed animal.

He asks himself, what has become of the single toy soldier in his drawer. He doesn’t know. It’s just another sad remain of his childhood.

“Dad!”

Fitz flinches slightly and turns around. His son Christopher holds up a big fluffy white teddy bear, with only one black eye. His eyes sparkle as he looks at the stuffed animal. “Can I have him, Dad? Please?”

Fitz laughs. “Sure. He’s going to fit into your collection, I think.”

His son already has a whole zoo of stuffed animals. They live on his bed and on the shelves. They listened to a lot of goodnight stories and to dreams of a little boy. And soon, when Christopher's sister will be born, they're going to be shared.

Christopher beams. “I’m going to take you home,” he tells the bear, pressing him against his chest.

Fitz smiles, although for a moment, he can hear the voice of his father inside his head. _Don’t talk with toys. It’s stupid. And it makes you look like a retard._ He quickly pushes that away. The memories and pictures from the past are just coming to the surface now and then. It’s unavoidable and he got used to it by now. He just always reminds himself, that they don’t control him. He thinks that’s the important thing.

He pays the teddy bear and some old books he found for Jemma and himself. Actually they had the job to find some scented candles and Christmas décor, but they still have the whole day and Fitz has always liked the spirit of antique stores. Even if one of his past visits isn’t connected to any particular happy feelings.

Fitz throws a last glance at the toy soldiers, standing in strict rows. Their black eyes look hard and cold.

He shudders involuntarily and leaves the shop, holding his son’s hand, who tells the teddy bear that he’s never going to be alone again.


	7. Warm And Comfy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just a cuddly winter day. (Fitzsimmons Fluff)

When Jemma awakes, the room is filled with the sharp fresh coldness of a winter morning. 

She shudders and only slowly returns to reality.

Her dream still echoes in her mind. Something about space. Something that reminded her how glad she is to be back on solid earth again.  
She raises her head to take a look out of the window and gasps.  
All she can see is white. Bare and untouched white.  
It must have snowed the whole night.  
It still does, she realizes.  
The flakes softly float by, falling on the thick white blanket on the ground silently.

From now on, it will be difficult to get into the nearby village. But their fridge is still well filled, and Jemma doesn’t feel the need to see anyone else anyway.

Just her and Fitz in a snowed in cottage doesn’t sound too bad, she decides and turns around to face her husband.

He’s still sleeping.  
His face is relaxed, and his mouth is slightly open.  
He looks peaceful.  
Jemma hopes he had good dreams or at least just a few hours of restful blank sleep.  
He’s still haunted by nightmares too often.

She reaches out to run her hand through his hair. It’s longer now. The curls start to crease up.  
He makes a noise and his head rolls to the side.

His eyes open slowly and stare into the void for a moment, his mind still caught in the middle of sleep and wakefulness.   
They finally fall on her and widen slightly.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely.

“Hey,” Jemma replies and smiles.

He blinks at her and reaches out to touch her cheek.  
“Tell me, beautiful. Did it hurt when you fell off the sky?” He asks in a drowsy voice.

“Ugh. Fitz.” Jemma laughs.

He hums and yawns.  
“Cold,” he mumbles and grimaces.

“Yes,” Jemma sighs and cuddles up against him, laying her head on his chest.  
He wraps an arm around her and she sighs, as she feels his warmth.  
“You’re like a heater,” she tells him, closing her eyes.

“Ugh. Fitz.” Jemma laughs.

He hums and yawns.  
“Cold,” he mumbles and grimaces.

“Yes,” Jemma sighs and cuddles up against him, laying her head on his chest.  
He wraps an arm around her and she sighs, as she feels his warmth.  
“You’re like a heater,” she tells him, closing her eyes.

“And you have cold toes,” Fitz accuses her.

“Hmm. Good you’re here to warm them up.”  
Jemma presses her toes against his leg, causing Fitz to flinch and groan in mild protest.  
He runs one of his hands through her hair slowly and evenly.  
It’s soothing and Jemma starts to feel a bit drowsy again.

“Let’s stay in bed today,” Fitz says dreamily. “There’s no reason to go out today anyway.”

Jemma nods.  
“Good idea.”

She already feels the sleepiness crawling back into every cell of her body.

Jemma doesn’t fight it.  
She welcomes it.

Fitz’s warmth as contrast to the winter cold, his touch, the sound of his steady heartbeat and the mere fact that they’re here in bed, together, safe and sound, is enough to calm her down and to make her know, that it’s okay to not be alert or worried or careful.

She feels warm and comfy.

And the world is whispering instead of screaming.  
  
It's just a cuddly winter day.


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding Fitz in space, Jemma asks herself where their home is. She finds the answer in an unexpected way.

The silence of the universe is deafening.

Jemma can’t find any sleep, although she’s exhausted and her body feels heavy.

Her thoughts wander around in her mind restlessly, always coming back to the moment she finally found Fitz.

She will never forget the confused expression on his face when he woke up. Or his first word, that made her sob, because she hasn’t heard his voice for an eternity.  
"Jemma?"

She had immediately pressed him close, soaking his cold shirt with her hot tears.

“I was about to save you,” he mumbled, his trembling hands roaming over her back.

“You did,” she told him. “You did …”

_And you died. You and not you. It’s all a mess and I’m not sure if we’ll ever find a way to deal with it._

She’s still mourning, Jemma knows.  
And she doesn’t try to stop it.  
Fitz died, and it was real.  
It hurts so much that sometimes she can’t breathe.

And often enough, she wakes up from a nightmare, desperately reaching for Fitz, wanting to touch him to make sure he’s there.

She told him everything two days later, when he said he wanted to know.  
And when she was done, they were both crying.  
Now, she doesn’t know about the future and her thoughts keep her awake.

But she’s not alone.

She turns her head to look at Fitz and finds him still awake too.

His eyes are open, staring up at the grey ceiling.

Jemma reaches out and touches his arm.  
“Do you have troubles to fall asleep?” She asks him softly.

Fitz nods.  
“I can’t stop thinking,” he mumbles. “It feels like being torn apart.”  
He sighs and wipes his face restlessly.

“I know. But once we’re home,” Jemma says, squeezing his hand, “It’s going to be easier.”

“Where is home?” Fitz asks with a frown.

Jemma startles.  
The question reminds her once again, how they weren’t only separated by space this time. She remembers things he doesn’t. For him, certain happenings are just stories. For her, it was real.  
Her memories are laying around in shards in every corner of the Lighthouse.  
And she realizes, she really doesn’t want to go back there.  
There’s a room where she took care of a depressed Elena.  
There’s a room in which she saw Daisy being tortured, while being held at gunpoint.  
There’s a room in which Fitz had locked himself up, his eyes empty and hopeless. 

No.  
The Lighthouse isn’t home.  
But where is it then?  
Do they have a home?  
Or are they still travellers, damned to live a life on the run forever. Can’t there be a place that is theirs only?

“Jemma?” Fitz’s hesitantly asking voice rips her out of her thoughts and she realizes that she must have stayed silent for too long.

She shakes her head.  
“I don’t know,” she whispers and feels tears burning in her eyes. “I really don’t know.”

“Hey.” Fitz wraps an arm around her and pulls her close. “It’s alright. My home is where you are, Jemma.”

She nods, laying her head on his chest.  
“I think I want to leave Shield, Fitz,” she says. “I mean … Not forever. We could still go back sometime. But I need some distance now.”

_I need you. I need us. I need the time it’s going to take to fix the cracks between us._

Their minds are like mixed up puzzle pieces now, she thinks.

“I think you’re right,” Fitz says. “After everything you told me … It’s a lot. Let’s focus on us now.”

Jemma nods. 

_And where do we go?_ An inner voice asks quietly.

There’s no answer to that question yet and it makes her lay awake for another hour or so, while Fitz’s breaths eventually get even and slow.

*

When they return to the Lighthouse, May is waiting for them.

She’s standing in front of the building, her arms crossed over her chest, her face unreadable, as she watches the Zephyr landing.

When she sees them walking towards her, her expression softens visibly.  
“Welcome back,” she says.

When Fitz stands in front of her, May looks at him for a long moment.  
She lays a hand on his shoulder.  
“It’s good to see you,” she tells him.

Fitz swallows.  
“I’m glad to see you too,” he says.  
He knows she was there with Mack when the building collapsed and his other self died.  
Jemma told him that too.  
And inside he thinks he would have been glad to have May and Mack with him.

May nods.  
She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a white envelope.  
“This is for you. He … Phil thought you may need a place,” May tells them. 

Jemma takes the envelope, puzzled. She pulls out a key and stares at it.

“It’s for a cottage in Perthshire,” May says.

Jemma swallows.  
“Oh. But … how did he know,” she whispers.

May smiles curtly for a very short moment. Her look gets somehow distant.  
“He was good at listening to people.”

Jemma looks at her.  
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

May nods tightly.  
“He spent the last days how he’d choose to.”  
She looks at Jemma and Fitz sternly.   
“You two lost enough. I’m glad you're back together. Go and take care for each other now.”

Jemma nods.  
“Thanks, May,” she says and hugs the other woman, who allows it. They both know it’s a goodbye. Not one forever, but one that is definite for the time being.

  
*

A few days later Jemma and Fitz stand in front of a cottage in the countryside of Scotland.  
It’s theirs.

They look at each other and smile, their hands intertwining.

It can become a home.


	9. Do You See What I See?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Anon: "Daisy sees someone flirting with Fitz at a Christmas party and she points it out to Jemma."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt by anon "Reader" :)  
> I hope you like it a bit! :3  
> It's a bit silly, lol. But I had fun writing it, thanks again for your prompt! <3

It’s Christmas and Coulson’s Bus team decided to attend a party at the Hub.

The room is well filled, with agents of all departments.

Daisy and Jemma stand together, drink wine and entertain each other with whispered remarks about the worst outfit choices of the other guests. From time to time they giggle breathlessly.

Fitz is at the opposite side of the room and talks with a guy Daisy doesn’t know. He’s quite attractive. Huge and lean. He’s wearing a shirt that’s a bit too tight for him.  
_Maybe he likes how it pronounces his muscular chest_ , Daisy thinks amused.

The two men have been talking for quite a long while now. And when Daisy takes a closer look sometime, she sees how the man leans towards Fitz and whispers something. Fitz chuckles and says something back, running a hand through his curls in a deliberately casual way.  
The other man sips his champagne and smirks, apparently quite pleased with himself.

Daisy frowns.  
She isn’t sure what she’s watching at first.  
But after a while of more attentive observation, she realizes that the two men are definitely flirting with each other.

Daisy whistles.  
She didn’t know Fitz is into men.  
In fact, she has been waiting for FitzSimmons to finally stop their “We-are-just-friends-okay?”- drama and spill the beans over their oh so secret feelings for each other, for a long time now. A long time in which she had been half amused half annoyed by them.  
“Simmons,” she says, elbowing the other woman. “Do you see what I see?”

Simmons raises an eyebrow.  
“Beg your pardon?”

Daisy points to the two men.  
“That guy over there? I think he’s flirting with Fitz. And from what I can see, it seems Fitz flirts back quite, um, enthusiastically.”

Simmons looks over to them and snorts.  
“Ugh. That’s _David_. Someone we went to academy with. Honestly, I thought Fitz had a bit more taste …” She sips her wine and grimaces. But there’s something bitter in her eyes now. 

Daisy frowns.  
Is that jealousy, I can sense, she asks herself.

Before she can say something, Simmons talks on in a hasty way. “Well. I mean, Fitz is allowed to flirt with whom he pleases,” she says deliberately indifferent and cheerful. But her face flushes pink and a vein on her forehead twitches. She sips her wine again, almost emptying the glass in one gulp.

“I didn’t even know Fitz is gay,” Daisy remarks, watching Simmons closely. 

“He isn’t. He’s bisexual,” Jemma replies. Her voice sounds still too cheerful and now she grips her glass so tightly that Daisy actually fears she’s going to crush it.

“Simmons. Are you alright?” She asks while at the same time thinking: _Yup. Definitely jealousy … Oh God._

“Yes,” Jemma says and narrows her eyes. She raises her glass to take another sip of wine and looks at it surprised, when she notices it’s almost empty. “I need more wine,” she mumbles.

Daisy sighs.

The next moment, they see how David points at the mistletoe above him and looks down at Fitz with raised eyebrows.  
And instead of shaking his head or laughing, Fitz nods, throws a short glance in Jemma’s direction for some reason, and gives David a very quick volatile kiss. On the lips.

“Oh wow,” Daisy says stunned and a bit amused. “That went quick.”

The next moment she hears something shattering and turns around wide-eyed.  
Jemma dropped her glass. Her face is flushed red. She mumbles an apology and hurries outside.   
A few people look after her puzzled.

Daisy doesn't know if she’s supposed to laugh or cry.

“What’s with Simmons?” Fitz who approaches slowly, asks her frowning.

Daisy snorts.  
_These two …_  
“Why don’t you go and ask her?”

Fitz hums. He rubs his head and makes a few hesitant steps towards the door.

“Hey, Fitz,” Daisy calls and he turns back to her. She grins. “I didn’t know you’re such a flirt-king.”

He flushes and rubs his head again.  
“It’s not … I’m … I just wanted to … I mean I …”  
He squints at David, who beams at him and waves with his free hand.   
Fitz gulps. Suddenly he looks very uncomfortable.  
“I’ll go and look for Simmons,” he mumbles and leaves the room hastily.

Daisy smirks and sips her wine.  
These two idiots. Why can't they just talk.  
_Anyway, they’re definitely going to kiss tonight_ , she thinks, making a bet with herself.

*

Jemma inhales the fresh night air.

Her face is still burning from anger and shame.   
How could she react this way? Everyone saw it. Everyone saw her dropping that glass and running outside in a haste …  
It was stupid.  
Stupid, stupid, stupid …

"Hey, are you alright?" A hesitant voice behind her asks.

Jemma closes her eyes.  
It’s Fitz. Great.

She turns around to him and tries to force a smile on her face.  
"Yes. I ... I just had too much wine."

Fitz doesn’t look convinced. He shifts his weight nervously.  
“Okay,” he says quietly.

They look at each other. An uncomfortable silence grows between them.

Suddenly, David steps out of the door and asks cheerfully, "Everything alright, Simmons?”

Jemma inhales. Rage stirs in her. God. Doesn't this man notice how intrusive he is?  
"YES!" She yells. “I’m perfectly fine, _David_!”

David blinks and hurries back inside.  
Fitz looks at her wide-eyed, taking a step backwards. 

Jemma scoffs and turns away, her face burning.

Fitz clears his throat nervously.  
"You … really didn’t like that I kissed him, did you?" 

Jemma shrugs. She feels exposed.  
“He’s an idiot. But … it’s not on me to decide who you can kiss,” she murmurs.

Fitz scratches his neck. He sighs.

"Okay. To be honest ... I didn’t … I’m not really into David,” he says and it sounds agonized. “He’s … Well. You’re right. He’s an idiot, okay? It was horrible to talk to him for that long. He just wants someone who laughs about his stupid jokes and admires his muscles. And he likes his Pizza with pineapple on it.” He shudders and takes a deep breath before continuing. “Listen. He was there and, um, seemed to be interested ... I know it's not nice and I’m a horrible person, but … To be honest I did it because I thought - hoped - you'd become, uhm, a bit jealous." He stops his stammering to look at his feet like they are the most interesting thing on this planet right now.

"What?" Jemma asks stunned, not quite sure if what she heard was real or just wishful thinking.

Fitz swallows, still staring at his feet.  
"Well ... sometimes I have a certain feeling that you ... but then I think I’m wrong and ... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all those things. It was stupid …”

"You're not wrong,” Jemma says quickly, without even knowing what exactly he means. But somehow, she senses it.  
_Could it really be …_  
“And … I sometimes have a certain feeling too,” she says carefully.

"Oh." Fitz finally looks up. He smiles.  
"Well ... um, have you ever been kissed under a mistletoe?" He asks and Jemma thinks he wants to sound seductive, but in fact he sounds like a charming dreamy idiot in love, and that’s way better.

"No. But to be honest, I don’t think we need a mistletoe,” she says, deciding to be brave for once.  
She crosses the distance between them and kisses him on the mouth, swallowing his surprised noise.


	10. Snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deke wants to build a snowman. Fitz wants to escape his thoughts. (Post Season 5, Fitzsimmons Family)

It’s a grey gloomy winter morning.

Fitz is sitting at the table in the living room of Jemma’s and his cottage in Perthshire, an untouched mug of tea beside him and an empty piece of paper in front of him.

He presses a hand against his forehead and sighs. The noise is loud in the room.

Jemma left an hour ago to do the shopping.

Without her, it’s very silent in the cottage and silence is an effective nutrient for Fitz's self-destructive thoughts.

They sneak into his mind effortlessly.  
What ifs and horror scenarios.  
They’re there since Jemma woke him up and told him, what happened while he was sleeping, frozen on a ship in space.

The things he heard about himself, about a version of him that died buried under rubbles, actually weren’t that surprising. He has already felt that something was wrong when he was in prison. But back then, he hasn’t thought it would be that bad.

Daisy …

The nightmares about Jemma’s stories and his own memories – memories of two lifes, that now include pictures about tortured Inhumans, tortured by ~~him~~ The Doctor – haunt him almost every day.

When they arrived at the cottage, Jemma got them a therapist.  
Fitz knows it’s the right thing to do, but he can’t help but feeling, like he’s a lost cause.  
Like it’s too late. Like he’s already damaged beyond repair …

“Gramps.”

Suddenly, Deke is standing in front of him and Fitz flinches.

His grandson beams at him.  
“Do you want to build a snowman?”

Fitz blinks.  
“What?”

“A snowman,” Deke repeats slightly annoyed, bouncing on his heels. “It has been snowing for the whole night! Everything outside is white. It's heavy snow. And I thought … I read about it, but I’ve never built a snowman myself before, and I thought, maybe you could show me how it works. I think it would be fun.”  
He looks at Fitz openly hopeful. 

Fitz sighs.  
He looks down at his hands laying flat on the table.  
He hasn’t been outside the cottage for a while now.  
There has been no reason for it.  
Merely living through the days and nights is already struggle enough, he doesn’t need the extra stress from the outside world.  
The therapist – who fortunately makes home visits for now – told him he should make a little walk from time to time. Just to get out and do something else than thinking, but he just doesn’t have the energy. Even getting out of bed in the morning is difficult. And he feels like a horrible person, every time Jemma comes back into the sleeping room for another time, to tell him softly to get up, to shower, to eat … He’s just giving her grief.  
Her and Deke.  
Fitz can’t understand why his grandson would even want to spend time with him …

“You’re thinking too much,” Deke tells him bluntly.

“Well. Thanks for the hint,” Fitz mumbles. He’s well aware that he sounds bitter.

Deke shifts his weight.  
“No, you know … sometimes maybe it’s better to just do things … to do something else when you’re stuck in a certain place of your thoughts and can’t find a way out.”

Fitz makes a doubtful noise.

Deke shrugs.  
“Listen. I’m outside. If you want to join me, do it. If not … It’s alright. But I’m sure you wouldn’t regret it.”

He leaves, already putting on his jacket and gloves.

Fitz looks after him.  
The next moment his thoughts start to wander back to where they were before Deke had distracted him.  
Fitz sighs.

Oh, screw it.  
He can’t do this anymore.

He gets up from the table and puts on his own winter clothes.  
  
*

Fitz steps outside and takes a deep breath.

The morning air is sharp cold and fresh. It actually feels good in his lungs.

He discovers Deke crouching in the snow, trying to make a ball with his hands. But he’s kneeling on a little raise. This isn't going to work.

Fitz sighs.  
“You’re doing it wrong,” he tells his grandson.

Deke stops and looks up at him happily surprised and expectant. 

“Lets find a flat surface first,” Fitz tells him. “Somewhere in the shadow. Then we’re going to scoop up snow for the bottom …”

Deke nods eagerly and soon they’re occupied with scooping up handfuls of snow.  
It’s actually quite hard work and when they’re finished with the shape of their snowman, they’re sweating.  
“We still need eyes and a nose,” Deke says breathlessly. He looks at the snowman proudly. It's almost as tall as himself.

“There’s a carrot in the fridge,” Fitz tells him. He digs in the snow with his hands, until he finds two dark pebbles. “Those can be the eyes."

Deke nods and leaves.  
Fitz carefully places the pebbles in the snowman's face and steps back to look at their work.  
It looks good, he thinks satisfied. It looks like the one he built with his mother in their garden, when he was …

Suddenly a snow ball hits him in his back and he gasps.

Deke chuckles behind him.

But when Fitz turns around and glares at him, the triumphant grin disappears from his grandson’s face.

“You didn’t just do this,” Fitz says slowly, while casually taking a handful of snow off the snowed-in car beside him.

Deke gulps.  
“I’m sorry, I …”  
He stops when Fitz’s own snowball hits him hard on the chest.  
“Hey!”

The next moment, they are engaged in a heated snowball battle.  
When Deke lands one hit on his forehead and the wet cold mass melts on his skin, Fitz asks himself for a moment, what he’s doing here.  
Building a snowman, throwing snowballs at his grandson, who is an adult just like Fitz himself … It should have felt ridiculous.

But … it’s fun.  
It’s a welcome distraction from the ever same thoughts.  
And it brings back some happier memories of his childhood …  
He hears Deke laughing, which is quickly choked off when Fitz lands a direct hit on his grandson's flushed face and can’t hold back an amused chuckle.  
This is okay, he thinks distantly.  
He can stop the worrying for a moment.

The battle goes on for quite a while. The carrot for the snowman lays in the snow forgotten.

When Jemma returns, Fitz and Deke are both half buried in snow and panting, out of breath.

She looks at them surprised.  
“What are you doing?”

“Gramps showed me how to build a snowman and after that he attacked me with snowballs!” Deke calls.

Fitz raises an eyebrow.  
“If I remember right, _you_ are the one who attacked first …”

Jemma smiles.  
“I’m glad you had fun,” she says warmly.

She’s especially glad Fitz left the cottage and got some fresh air.

“Well. What do you two think about some hot chocolate now?” She asks.

“With cream?” Deke asks hopefully.

She nods.

“Yes!” Deke calls out, jumping up to get into the cottage first.

Fitz rolls his eyes at Jemma, but smiles.  
She smiles back.

It’s a start.


	11. Fireplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a firece storm outside. When the power goes out, Jemma and Fitz cuddle in front of the fireplace.

The storm is fierce.

Fitz and Jemma knew it would be coming, but it’s still a surprise, when the grim wind blows the snow in violent waves against the walls of the cottage.

After a while, the power goes out.

The sudden darkness is pure. Their eyes only slowly adapt to the unfamiliar gloominess.

They find a few candles and a pack of matches in a drawer.  
The small flames throw big dancing shadows on the wall.  
In this first dim light they manage to light the fireplace as well.

The fire is hesitant at first, but after they feed it with enough wood, that they have fortunately already cut a week ago, and some old newspapers, it grows quickly and stays strong.

Soon, a comfy warmth spreads in the room and they sit down in front of the fireplace, cuddled up against each other and wrapped in their favourite blanket.

The wind screams.   
From time to time, the windows rattle in their frames and the walls groan.

Jemma lays her head on Fitz’s shoulder. She feels the tenseness in his body.  
“Are you alright?” She asks quietly.

“Yeah … I’ve never been fond of storms,” Fitz says.

“I know.”  
Jemma lays a comforting hand on his knee.

“As a child,” Fitz continues, “I’ve been horrified by thunderstorms. Whenever I heard the first thunder rolling, I screamed and ran to my mother. But my father grabbed me and pulled me back into my room. He threw me on the bed and told me to be a man.”  
He snorts.  
“I cried myself into sleep in those nights.”

Jemma shakes her head. She remembers her thunderstorm experiences. Her mother allowed her to crawl into their parent’s bed and told her in a hushed voice, where the storm, the thunder and the flashing came from. She talked until Jemma eventually fell asleep again.  
In her heart stirs the same mix of sadness and anger she always feels in regard to Fitz’s father.  
“Everyone is scared of something,” she says. “Your father surely had fears himself. It wasn’t his right to decide which fear isn’t worth to be accepted. He should have talked to you about the storm. It was his task to make it less terrifying for you …”

“My mother did that once she found the energy to throw him out for good,” Fitz mumbles. “We watched monkey documentaries when the storms got too bad.”  
He sighs.  
“I miss her.”

“I know. I miss my parents too. We should invite them over for Christmas,” Jemma suggests. 

“That’s a good idea,” Fitz says. He flinches slightly, when there’s a loud bang somewhere outside and sighs.

Jemma takes his face in both hands and kisses him. Long and passionately.  
When they part, slightly breathless, Fitz’s pupils are dilated. She sees the shadow of the dancing flames in them and her stomach flutters in a familiar first hint of lust. 

“How about some distraction,” she whispers in his ear and he shivers as her breath tickles his skin. “You know, it’s an image that’s been in my head for a while now … Making love in front of the fireplace.”

Fitz’s eyes widen.  
“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well. Let’s make it a memory instead of an imagination,” he says and grins.

The storm subsides after a while.  
They barely notice it. For they are caught in their passion.


	12. Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma tells Fitz about the pleasant sides of winter. (Fitzsimmons Fluff)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the stories get shorter every day, but to be honest it's really hard to post one each day :3
> 
> I also wanted to say, I'm overwhelmed by all the lovely comments I have received so far, thanks so much <3 <3 <3

Jemma and Fitz do an early morning walk in the forest near their cottage.

Everything around them is covered with a thin blanket of frost. It makes the naked trees sparkle.  
The grass is crunching quietly under their shoes.

"Look at all this frost,” Jemma murmurs. "It's beautiful, isn’t it?”

Fitz sighs.  
"Winter arrives quickly this year."

"Yes. Winter. And you know what that means?” Jemma asks, reaching for his hand.

“Hmm. Cold feet, runny noses, colds and dry cracked skin?” Fitz muses, grinning.

Jemma laughs.  
“Oh Fitz. There’s so much more about winter … A lot of pleasant things.”

“Enlighten me, my love.”

“Well. Sitting in front of the fireplace, while outside it’s snowing. Tea at every time of the day, because it’s the best way to warm the insides. Never-ending shared hot showers, because you don’t want to get out. Spending more time in bed, cuddled up against each other, feeling warm and cozy while outside it’s freezing. Mulled wine and gingerbread when it’s almost Christmas.  
And,”  
she gives him a quick kiss on the nose.  
“A lot of kissing too, so that our noses won’t freeze.”

Fitz chuckles.  
“Alright. You convinced me. Winter is officially the best season.”

“It is,” Jemma says, satisfied.  
She shudders as a cold breeze hits her face and pulls up her scarf.  
“Let’s go home and have some tea.”

Fitz nods and smiles at her.  
She’s lovely with her nose and cheeks flushed pink from the cold.  
She alone warms the winter, he thinks.  
Without her it would be the darkest and coldest season. It would be an endless winter in his heart.

He shoves that thought away because he won’t ever have to find out how this scenario would feel like.

They are together and protect each other against any kind of coldness in this world.

When they enter the cottage, it starts to snow softly.


	13. Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma remembers the time she spent a Christmas night at Fitz's hospital bed.

It’s Christmas night.

Jemma is sitting on an uncomfortable hospital chair and nervously fumbles with a piece of tinsel that somehow found its way into her hands.  
From somewhere she can hear the soft bells of a Christmas carol.  
There’s a familiar smell of mulled wine and gingerbread in the air.

“Merry Christmas, Fitz,” Jemma whispers.

Of course, he doesn’t answer her.

Fitz is sleeping.

Actually, he is in a coma. Has been for almost a week now. But thinking that he is sleeping is somehow better.

Jemma can hardly take her eyes off him, although it hurts to see him like this.  
He’s small on the big hospital bed, surrounded by machines. He has never looked so small before.  
His curls spread around him on the pillow like a halo and there’s an unfamiliar stubble beard on his face.  
He wouldn’t like it, she knows.  
Maybe she should shave it off.  
But then she thinks, he can do it himself, as soon as he wakes up.

That thought brings back uncomfortable memories of the doctor’s words.  
_We don’t know. I’m sorry. There could be brain damage. If he wakes up.  
If …_

She shoves that aside quickly.  
He’s going to wake up.  
He has to.

The words he said … they reverberate in Jemma’s head all the time.  
_You’re more than that. More than that. More …_

 _You’re more than that too, Fitz_ , she thinks desperately.

_And I’m sorry._

_Wake up._

Soon someone will come to tell her in a knowing, comforting voice to take a nap. Or to drink something. Or to eat some of the biscuits Trip made for the team.  
Jemma shudders. 

She reaches out to touch Fitz’s hand on the blanket.  
She just wants to stay here.  
She has to be here when he wakes up.  
He will be scared. And confused.  
She’s going to be there to calm him. To tell him that they’re going to be alright.   
She’s going to be there when he opens his eyes.

Because he’s going to wake up.  
She knows it.

Jemma sighs and closes her eyes for a moment.  
She’s tired.  
But she has to stay awake for Fitz. At least … for another hour or so.

She drowses off a few minutes later, her head sinking on her chest, her hand still on Fitz’s.

It’s a silent night.  
  


*  
  


It’s a silent night and of course she remembers.

She remembers every Christmas.

They’re in bed and Jemma stares into the void, nervously biting her lip.  
She turns her head to look at Fitz. To see his face.  
His eyes are closed and his face is calm.  
  
Like back then.  
  
But … this time he’s really only sleeping.  
Still. The memory of seeing him in this bed ...  
She will never be able to erase this from her mind.  
She involuntarily makes a quiet desperate noise.

“What’s wrong, Jemma?” Fitz murmurs drowsily, reaching for her hand under the blanket.

“I … Memories,” she sighs. “Every year I remember the Christmas night I spent at your bed, while you were in coma.”

“Oh.”  
His hand squeezes hers lightly.  
“I’m here now, Jemma.”

“I know. But I remember the things I felt back then. All the sadness, guilt and pain. It’s too strong to ignore it.”

He hums in sympathy.   
“You want to cuddle?”

“Yes.”

She moves as close to Fitz as she’s able to, laying her head on his chest.  
He runs a hand through her hair and she closes her eyes.

“I’m glad you were with me back then,” he tells her. “I know you helped me finding my way back. No one can tell me otherwise. It’s one of those things you just know without a doubt.”

Jemma smiles.  
“You know, the doctor told me the nest morning that there was change in your brain’s activity,” she whispers. “It’s like … it’s almost like I got a Christmas wonder. You came back to me.”

“And you saved my life,” he says. “You’re the reason we’re going to have a lot of wonderful Christmases. With the team. With our family.”

“Yes. I love you, Fitz,” she whispers, laying a hand on his chest, where his heart is beating strong and even.

“I love you too, Jemma,” he answers, kissing her head. “Merry Christmas.”


	14. You Better Watch Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deke tries to walk on ice. It doesn't end well. Fitz isn't amused.

It’s a peaceful winter day.

Fitz leaves the cottage to get a breath of fresh air.  
He stands still for a short while and takes in the beautiful sight of the snowed in nature around him.

But the next moment, when he looks to the lake in front of their cottage, which is covered by a sparkling layer of ice, he flinches and gasps.

There’s Deke, trying to walk on the ice. His steps are unsure and his body sways.  
He has a wide grin on his face and his eyes sparkle as usual when he discovers something new he’s enjoying.

But this time, he's doing something very dangerous.  
The ice doesn’t look very thick.  
It’s almost transparent.

Fitz swallows.   
“Deke, watch out! I don’t think the ice is thick enough yet to walk on it.”

Deke turns his head to look at Fitz and waves.  
“Hey Gramps! Don’t worry, it's safe, look!"  
And Deke stomps on the ice, laughing.

“Stop that!” Fitz yells angrily, shaking his head. “Come back, you idiot!"

Deke makes another step. It's one too much.

It happens in a heartbeat.

The ice shatters with a loud, sharp noise.

Deke’s eyes widen.  
He loses the ground under his feet and water splashes.  
Deke gasps as icy fluid soaks his clothes and the merciless coldness reaches his body. He grabs the edge of the remaining ice and holds on to it desperately.  
His eyes are filled with a pained horror.  
He opens his mouth, maybe to scream, but no noise comes out.

“Deke!” Fitz yells, horrified.

Deke stares at him.  
“Gramps?” The word is horribly quiet. It causes Fitz’s stomach to cramp in worried pain.

“Don’t panic,” he tells Deke as calm as he’s able to, although his heart is racing. “I’m going to get you out. Just … keep your head above the water, yeah? And don’t let go off the ice.”

He turns around, his eyes searching for something he can use to get to his grandson.  
His eyes fall on a ladder, that’s laying in the grass in front of their now naked apple tree, and he sighs relieved.  
He fetches the ladder and runs back to the frozen lake.

Fortunately, Deke isn’t too far away from the bank of the lake. And he’s still holding on to the edge of the ice. Good.

Fitz lays on the ice and puts the ladder in front of him. Slowly, carefully, he slides above the frozen surface on his stomach, trying to move as little as possible.  
He knows he mustn’t get too close to the thin ice and the hole, otherwise they will soon be both in the freezing water.  
When he’s almost there, close enough to see the shock in his grandson’s eyes, he shoves the ladder towards him carefully.

“Grab it,” he says, “I’m going to pull you out.”

Deke reaches for the ladder with shaking hands and his fingers close around it.   
Fitz begins to pull him out of the water and back over the ice slowly.  
Fortunately, the ice doesn’t break again, although Fitz thinks he hears a quiet crack under him from time to time.

When they’re finally back on safe firm ground, Fitz breaths heavily and Deke shivers, dripping freezing water on the snow.

“You’re an idiot, you know?” Fitz asks him grimly.

Deke nods.  
“I … I … k-k-know,” he stammers, his teeth clattering. He looks utterly miserable.

“We need to get you out of the wind,” Fitz says, helping Deke to stand up. He supports his grandson on the way back to the cottage, hoping he was quick enough to prevent a trip to the hospital.

When they enter the cottage, Jemma comes out of the living room, a mug of tea in her hands which she drops immediately as she sees Deke, who is dripping wet, pale and shudders violently. She gasps and hurries towards them.  
“What happened?”

“He broke through the ice. Do we have to get him to the hospital?” Fitz asks Jemma, worried.

She looks Deke over and bites her lip.  
“We have to remove the wet clothes and rewarm his body. I’ll check him for frostbite and I have to listen to his heartbeat. Fitz, run a bath. Lukewarm water please. Come on,” she mumbles, grabbing Deke’s elbow and urges him towards his room.

Fitz goes to the bathroom, still feeling the shock about seeing his grandson breaking into ice.  
It was terrifying.  
For a moment, he thought he would lose Deke.  
A part of his family.  
And it hurt a lot. He doesn’t want to experience something like this ever again …

Although Deke seems to be fine after being dried and bathed, Jemma insists of a visit by their doctor. Deke complains, but after Jemma yells at him under tears, listing all the complications that falling into icy water could cause even hours after the incident, he stays silent for the whole procedure. He's probably too shocked about the actual danger he has been in, to say anything else.

The doctor’s visit is brief and, to Jemma and Fitz’s relieve, Deke won’t suffer any consequential damages and is, indeed, quite well.

Soon, Deke is sitting on the couch, sipping a hot chocolate with cream, wrapped in two fuzzy blankets. With his free hand he presses a hot water bottle on his stomach.  
He looks exhausted and still a bit shocked by his sudden, unpleasant experience with icy water.

Fitz still decides to have a talk with him immediately.

“What were you thinking?” He asks his grandson sternly. “Do you know that people die from such things?”

Deke swallows and looks at his feet.  
“I wanted to do ice skating,” he murmurs. “I saw people doing it on YouTube. It looks like fun.”

Fitz sighs.  
“Well. You need thick ice for that. And special shoes. You can’t just go on any ice and slide around …”

Deke lowers his head.  
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Fitz shakes his head.  
“It’s alright. Just … don’t do that again. I’ll take you ice skating in the city, if you want. There’s a special hall for it.”

Deke looks up at him, a surprised smile spreading on his face.  
“Really?!”

“Yeah. I’m not very good and it has been ages since I did it the last time. But I guess I’m good enough to teach you the basics,” Fitz says, shrugging.

“Thank you Gramps!” Deke exclaims. He jumps up abruptly and hugs Fitz, who flinches slightly, but returns the hug after a second, because he’s really glad Deke is alright.

He can’t lose this idiot.


	15. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma asks Fitz for a dance.

Jemma watches Fitz with a feel of heavy worry and sadness in her chest.

He looks lost, how he’s sitting there at the table, his chin resting in his palm. His gaze is distant.

In the background the radio plays another Christmas Carol. It’s soft and slow.

Jemma knows it vaguely.

She scratches her arm and continues to look at Fitz.  
Once, on a Christmas long ago, she remembers, they danced to Christmas music in his dorm. They were slightly tipsy. They giggled a lot and nothing dark bothered their minds back then. They were young. So very young.

 _I want to dance_ , she thinks. _I want to dance with him again and remember how it feels like to be unworried.  
_The past won’t ever come back. She knows that all too well. But sometimes, she thinks, it can remember them how to do things and feel happy about them.

She walks to Fitz and he barely reacts to her, his eyes still filled with this certain kind of thoughtful distance. 

“Can I have this dance?” Jemma asks.

Fitz flinches. He looks up at her, surprised.

She smiles and shrugs.  
“I like this song,” she says quietly.

Fitz swallows.  
For a frightening moment, he looks like he’s about to flee. The expression in his eyes changes from hesitant to desperate and hopeful.

She waits, her hand still stretched out.

He looks at it.  
After a sigh he takes her hand and gets up.

Jemma leads him to the middle of the room. She takes both his hands and puts them on her hips. Then, she wraps her arms around him and sighs at the warm closeness between them. She can feel his breath on her face and sees a faint scar on his neck.  
They have so many scars now.  
Outside and inside.  
It comes with the time.

After a few first hesitant, almost clumsy, steps, they sway to the music gently. It’s not a certain kind of dance. It’s just them, moving together in slow circles, holding on to each other.  
It’s simple.

It’s letting go.

Right here, right now, they are dancing, and the music leads them.  
There’s no place for anything else.  
They become one with the song, the melody, the rhythm. And with each other.

They move like this for a few songs. Jemma starts to feel lightheaded in a good way. She presses her face against Fitz’s chest and listens to his heartbeat. It’s soothing.

The song is over. The way too shrill voice of the commentator rips Jemma out of the light trance.

They stand still and look at each other.  
Fitz carefully wipes a strand of hair out of her forehead.  
He kisses her forehead. The touch of his lips is volatile.

Before he can break away from her, she wraps her arms around him and presses him close.

He exhales shakily and runs his hands over her back.

They stand together, holding each other closely with their foreheads touching, their breaths warm and calm between them.

There are no words. They don’t need them.

They show enough with touches and looks.

Jemma doesn’t feel unworried now. Not like back then. But she feels loved and alive and once again remembers, that they’re still here and capable of bringing the light back into their life.

Light, together with more music.


	16. Star(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One time Jemma watches the stars together with Fitz, and another time she watches them alone.

It’s a mild night in spring.  
  
Jemma and Fitz are celebrating the end of a row of exhausting tests with some other students and Jemma feels slightly tipsy.

She isn’t used to alcohol, but the cocktail she tried after some hesitance has been delicious, so she lost count of the glasses she had. After a while the world around her starts to feel quicker and louder than before.   
Sometime Fitz suggests to get a bit fresh air, and Jemma agrees relieved.

Soon they are standing outside on a meadow side by side, looking up at a starry night sky in awe.

“It’s beautiful,” Jemma breathes. 

“Yeah,” Fitz agrees in a dreamy voice, “Can you imagine how it would be like to be in space? To see the world like we see the stars now? Far away and small.”

Jemma hums.  
“Maybe we will be there one day,” she says.

Fitz smiles.  
“And how will we get there?”

“You’re going to build us a spaceship,” Jemma tells him matter of factly. 

Fitz looks at her with a hint of pleased surprise in his eyes.  
“You think I could do that?”

“Yes,” she says.  
Just that.  
Because she simply knows, that he’s going to do it sometime. He’s a genius and her friend.

She lays her head on Fitz’s shoulder.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s a certain feeling inside her. Whatever it is, she knows that it just feels right to be close to him now.

Fitz doesn’t move. But his breath is faltering for a moment.

They stand there, watching the stars and feeling very small under the firmament.

*

Many years later, Jemma is watching the stars alone.

She’s sitting on a little hill outside the Lighthouse. She can’t bear to be in there right now. Too many memories are lurking in every corner and room.  
And in the eyes of the people currently living in the building.

She looks up at the starry sky and sighs.

Not far from her, light waves hit the shore steadily. The silent rushing is a soothing noise in the otherwise silent night. .

Jemma feels small again. And lonely.  
The memory of her and Fitz watching the stars together, has been one of her happier ones. Now, it’s painful. 

What they had imagined back then became true.

Fitz built a spaceship and they have been in space.

And in a few days, she’s going to be there again. Her mission is to find Fitz. He’s somewhere, frozen and asleep. On his way through time and space to save them. Not knowing, that he already did and now is going to wake up in a world that is filled with memories about him, that he doesn’t have.  
Because he existed in two versions and one of them died.

No, Jemma thinks. Not _one of them_. That sounds wrong.

Her husband. Her husband died.

He’s gone.  
And it isn’t fair.  
  
He should be here, sitting beside her.  
He should be here, telling her it’s going to be alright now.  
He should be here.

She misses him so much. It feels like her heart is ripped apart over and over again.  
She has to set the pieces together before she wakes Fitz up, because she can’t let him think he’s the second choice, or – worse – a replacement.

 _What a mess_ , she thinks desperately.

She looks up at the stars again.  
She thinks she can see a comet.  
_If only they would really fulfill a wish ..._

Suddenly, a voice rips her out of her thoughts.

“Jemma?”

It’s Daisy. She sounds hesitant.

Jemma turns to look at her and forces a smile on her face.  
“Hey.”

“Are you alright?” Daisy asks, nervously scratching her arm. She looks exhausted. Even in the dim light of the moon and stars, Jemma can see the tracks of tears on her face.

I’m fine, Jemma wants to say. But it isn’t true. She’s as fine as Daisy is obviously - not at all.  
So she shakes her head.  
“No. I’m not.”

Daisy nods slowly.  
“You want to talk?” She asks quietly. It sounds almost hopeful.

“Okay,” Jemma says and watches, as Daisy sits down beside her.

“Those are a lot of stars,” Daisy murmurs, looking up at the sky.

Jemma nods. She thinks, that it is good, to not be alone anymore, with the overwhelming silent presence of the stars and her restless thoughts.  
Out of a sudden feeling, she lays an arm around Daisy.


	17. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz has nightmares about the Framework. Jemma's presence helps to calm his mind, even when she's sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for mentions of physical child abuse.

Fitz blinks into the void, his mouth opened in a breathless silent scream.

A nightmare woke him up.

It was one of those nightmares, after which you feel relieved when you realize that the hazy curtain of illusion slowly lifts, and reality comes back piece by piece.

Fitz groans and shivers. His clothes are soaked in cold sweat, he notices. 

The blurred images of the nightmare are still lingering. He shakes his head as if he would be able to shake them off. But it’s not that simple. It’s never simple.

He turns his head to look at Jemma beside him.

Her face is relaxed. Soft breathes leave her slightly open mouth steadily.

Fitz sighs. His mind and body yearn for Jemma’s warmth. For her real solid loving presence.

After some hesitance, he carefully moves closer to her, laying his hand on her arm and pressing his face into the crook of her neck.

Jemma doesn’t wake up. But she sighs softly in her sleep.

Fitz’s heart calms down while he’s listening to her breaths.  
The love for her warms his body from the inside.  
At the same time, a desperate fear of losing her stirs in him.

There are memories in his head. Of a life without her.  
He was still leading this life in his reoccurring nightmares. They are fed by the confusing, horrifying images of the Framework.

Although he hasn’t had hallucinated The Doctor for a while now, since he’s muted by the medication his therapist had prescribed him, he sees him plenty in those dreams.  
He doesn’t only see him.  
He _is_ The Doctor in those dreams.  
He leads Hydra. He tortures Inhumans. He loves a girl that isn’t real.

And Jemma is never there.

The worst is, Fitz understands The Doctor. He even feels sympathy for him.  
He knows how it is to feel like you’re not enough.  
AIDA only changed the paths his life took. But she didn’t change his father’s behaviour. She didn’t change his conviction, that kids need a stern hand. And in the Framework, he had enough time to raise his son after his imagination.

The memories of the Alistair in the Framework are by far the most terrifying.  
In his nightmares Fitz is The Doctor, looking at the faint scars on his back in the mirror, caused by a belt buckle. He’s The Doctor, flinching back when his father raises a hand because he experienced enough sudden slaps in the face. He’s The Doctor, feeling a sickening mix of love and hatred for this man, wanting to please him for once, to finally hear a “Well done” or a “I’m proud of you”.

Fitz talks about these specific memories a lot in therapy. And every time he does, he breaks down, because they mix with his own memories and produce a terrifying picture of _what if_.

At least, by now, he’s able to look at everything in a different, more controlled light, than before, when he wasn’t receiving any professional help and tried to push every thought of the Framework back, while at the same time knowing, the weight of it all would eventually crush him. ~~(Which actually happened in another time line, while he himself was sleeping)~~  
  
At a certain point, Fitz knows, he stopped trying to be good enough for his father. He realized that it’s not his own fault.  
But The Doctor never stopped trying. 

And while his mother raised Fitz to be a good, caring man, The Doctor was taught to be a grim, strong, independent man, who’s able to lead an organisation.  
But Fitz knows - or rather tells himself until he almost believes it – that he’s stronger, because his strength comes from the urge to help and save people, not to destroy them and be a powerful, respected leader. 

Yes, the nightmares are bad. But after all, they aren’t real and they’re always going to end. He’s always going to wake up with Jemma by his side.  
He’s truly loved and he gives true love back.  
He’s trying his best.  
This is his life.

Fitz closes his eyes and breathes in Jemma’s familiar scent.  
He tries to calm his mind and finally falls back into a dreamless slumber.


	18. Comfort And Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz finds a cat. Or rather, the cat finds him.

Toothless tripped into their life all of a sudden, like a late Christmas present.

It’s late December and it has been snowing all night.

Fitz is freeing their car of snow, when he hears a little noise at his feet.

He blinks and looks down, his eyes widening in surprise.

A piece of black void is sitting in the blank white snow. A void with golden eyes, which are glancing up at him intensely.  
It’s a black cat and it’s really tiny.

Fitz feels a warm rush of affection.

The ball of black fur makes the noise again, a high demanding meow, and begins to lick a paw, while still watching Fitz attentively.

“Hey little one,” Fitz says softly and crouches down carefully, “What’s up with you?”

The cat looks at its paw and shakes it.

“You’re hurt,” Fitz realizes. “Okay, don’t worry. I’m going to get you to the vet, alright?”

There’s a vet in the village nearby, he knows.

He carefully picks the cat up, which doesn't try to get away from him at all.  
He sits it on the passenger’s seat and starts the car.

*

Since the village is small, Fitz doesn’t have to wait long at the vet.

He watches as the female doctor looks the cat over.  
She diagnoses malnourishment, a hurt paw – probably pierced by a barbed wire fence – and some scratches, which she disinfects.  
The animal is rubbing its head on the vet’s arm while she’s working, and the young woman laughs.  
“What a friendly little thing,” she says and strokes the cat’s head. “What’s her name?”

“Um.” Fitz scratches his head. “She’s not … I found her. Or, she rather found me.”

“Ah.”  
The vet smiles at him.  
“She thought you’re trustworthy. That’s a great gift, you know? You should appreciate it.”

Fitz nods nervously. He looks at the cat, which looks back with her golden sparkling eyes and he feels

“I’m going to take her home.”

*

Fitz enters the cottage with arms full of cat and cat equipment. He sways through the door and grimaces when the cat’s claws pierce his skin as the little thing is trying to escape to discover this mysterious new home.

“Jemma. We have a cat now!” Fitz calls, right when the cat manages to jump on the floor and disappears in the living room.

“What?” Jemma calls back, but soon squeaks in excitement and Fitz guesses the cat found her.

When he arrives in the living room, Jemma is holding the little animal in her arms and speaks to it in a soft voice.  
She looks up at Fitz with teary eyes.  
“Oh Fitz. Where …”

“She came to me this morning. She was hurt and I took her to the vet. And … I couldn’t leave her there. I had to.”

“Of course you had to,” Jemma whispers and looks at the cat in her arms fondly. “What’s her name?”

Fitz looks at the void with eyes in Jemma’s eyes and smiles, when he remembers a movie they have watched recently. Something about dragons …  
“Toothless,” he suggests.

“Oh.” Jemma’s eyes widen, and she laughs. “How very fitting.”

Toothless starts to purr. It sounds like happy agreement.

*

Toothless is changing their life immediately.

She has two sides, Fitz sometimes thinks.

One side is loud and happy and playful. She shows it when she's running through the whole cottage in full speed, screaming.

But she also has a incredibly calm and peaceful side. When Fitz sits down on the couch, she comes to him to lay in their lap, kneading his stomach and purring all the while.

She also comes, when he doesn’t feel well. He still has his bad days, on which nothing seems to make sense. On which he’s close to panic attacks and depressive episodes. Toothless seems to sense his distress. She lays beside him or on his stomach, and lets him pet her as long as he wants to.  
And it gets better.

Sometimes, Jemma finds him and Toothless, laying on the bed, curled up like balls, eyes closed and breaths even, and she always has to laugh at the sight.

“I always knew you're a cat inside,” Jemma once tells Fitz mockingly. “Toothless just revealed that side of you.”

“We all should be more like cats,” Fitz tells her dreamily, rubbing Toothless's belly.

Toothless is without a doubt part of their family now.  
She’s always there.  
Everyone loves them and she gives lots of love back.

She brings them comfort and joy.


	19. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Fitz are stucked in their car because of a snow storm. It's freezing. Jemma has an idea how to stay warm. (Pre-Relationship)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. It's the first day I struggled with something like a writer's block and almost didn't manage to write anything at all xD  
> So I searched through my fics and found a scenario I could imagine for FitzSimmons too.  
> I changed things and expanded the scenario a bit and I'm still quite satisfied how it turned out.  
> I hope you like it a bit too :3

Jemma can’t believe it.

The first real snow storm of the year is raging and they are in the middle of it. They are stuck in their car on a lonely country road, no way to get forward or backward, and they have no signal.

It’s freezing cold already. She feels the tips of her fingers getting numb.

She looks at Fitz, who's sitting on the passengers seat, his face half covered by his scarf and his figure huddled.

Jemma sighs.  
This is a disaster.

They had been on their way to Jemma’s parents. To visit them for Christmas. At first it had been snowing only slightly. It had been quite lovely, to watch the snowflakes falling softly on the calm nature around them, but at some point, Jemma had to pull over because she just could not see _anything_.  
It happened so quickly …  
Now the snow is so dense that the world around them seems to be a flickering, white mass. The wind howls and makes the car wobble slightly from time to time.  
  
Next to her, Fitz once more tries to use his phone to call for help. But after a moment he sighs in resignation and shakes his head.  
He looks at Jemma, trying to smile. The result looks more like a grimace.   
“It’s going to stop soon,” he tells her, not sounding very convinced.   
  
Jemma sighs. She hunches her shoulders and tries to warm her face in the collar of her pullover.  
  
Time passes excruciatingly slow. It seems to get colder with every minute.  
They should have listened to the weather report, Jemma thinks.  
They barely leave academy. Sometimes, between tests and experiments and “basic” survival training ( _Really? What for?_ She asks that herself every time she has to crawl through a mud field. She’s going to be in a lab after all, isn’t she …) it seems like the outside world is far away and everyday things become extraordinary challenges.  
Like this.  
  
“I can’t feel my face,” Fitz suddenly says matter of factly and rips Jemma out of her thoughts.

“Me neither,” she sighs and shivers.

Fitz shifts on his seat and rubs his hands together.

Suddenly, Jemma has a thought. A surprising yet simple thought.  
“People radiate body heat,” she says more to herself than to Fitz.

Fitz raises an eyebrow.  
“Really? Didn’t know that,” he mumbles ironically.   
  
She looks at him, beaming.  
“Fitz! We’re going to warm each other. That’s the best and most rational thing we can do right now!”

Fitz flinches so hard, he hits his head on the car roof and gasps.  
“What?!”

“Yes. I mean, don’t know how much longer we have to stay here. Do you have a better idea?”  
  
No. Fitz doesn’t have one. But … did Jemma really suggest that they cuddle to warm each other up? At the thought of being so close to Jemma, Fitz’s heart begins to beat very fast in his chest. His face, already reddened by the cold, is flushing even more and he can feel his ears burning, in a sharp contrast to the cold air in the car.  
He gulps.  
_Oh God. If she knew how many times I imagined we were close …_

This situation is both a dream and a nightmare, he quickly decides.  
He knows he has feelings for her. But he doesn't think she would return them, so he keeps them to himself. After all, _this_ , what they have, is the best thing in the world. He doesn't want to destroy it because he's being selfish ...  
  
“Fitz?”  
  
“I … okay,” Fitz presses out. He hesitantly opens his arms for her and feels like a clumsy idiot. Jemma looks at him for a moment. It seems almost calculating. Then she moves closer. He flinches when she starts to open the buttons of his parka with trembling but determined fingers. When she managed to reveal his woollen jumper, she nods satisfied and presses against his chest with a sigh. Fitz wraps his arms around her carefully.

Jemma sighs again.  
It’s a very pleased sound.

Fitz’s heart now feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest soon.  
He swallows and tries to get his breathing under control.  
He thinks it’s already getting a lot warmer. But maybe it’s just his imagination. And his excitement. And his traitorous thoughts, which are trying to find the most vivid imaginations about him and Jemma close together, he has had so far. And he has had a lot of them ...  
  
“Okay?” Jemma asks, her voice muffled against through the fabric of his jumper.  
  
“Okay,” Fitz answers hoarsely, although his whole body is tense.  
  
A few minutes pass like this.  
  
At some point Jemma looks up at him.  
  
_Oh God. She’s so close._  
  
“This is good. You feel … very good,” Jemma mumbles.  
  
Fitz swallows.  
Suddenly it seems like there’s nothing in his world but Jemma’s warm sparkling eyes.  
  
_God. I wish I could …_  
  
Suddenly Fitz’s body seems to function on autopilot. He lowers his head and gives Jemma a soft kiss on her forehead.  
  
Jemma freezes and her mouth opens slightly, to a surprised breathless _Oh_.  
  
"Sorry …,” Fitz says hastily, backs away and wishes he could disappear in the void. “I …”  
_You stupid idiot. You ruined it. You scared away your only friend. You …_  
  
“No,” Jemma says softly. She reaches for his arm and prevents him from shying away further. “That was … do it again.”

Fitz blinks.  
He takes a deep breath. Then he kisses Jemma’s forehead again. Feather lightly.  
  
Jemma sighs softly and closes her eyes.  
  
Now Fitz feels really warm. He puts his chin on Jemma’s head and closes his eyes as well.  
  
“Fitz,” Jemma mutters softly. “Fitz, do you ever think about whether we could be more …”  
  
“Yes,” Fitz says immediately. “Yes.”

“Oh. Because I do too,” she says dreamily, and Fitz thinks he might pass out.  
  
  
Outside, the snow already begins to fall more gently. 

Fitz thinks he already has gotten the best gift for Christmas he ever could imagine.


	20. A Beautiful Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Simmons are expecting their first child. (Baby Fic)

Jemma has been telling herself for a long time, that she isn’t scared at all.

The weeks pass by and the date of birth comes closer. The day, on which their daughter will enter the world.

It still sometimes feels like a dream for her.

And beside a slight feeling of happy disbelief, she only feels excitement and joy.

But when the contractions start, she feels the first hint of a certain, tense thrill. It’s not exactly a negative emotion, but it’s definitely connected to some scary thoughts and worries.

She knows Fitz feels the same, if not more.  
Most of the time he’s surrounded by heaps of books about anything related to birth and babies. She once found him asleep on one of them.  
When he’s not doing research, he’s planning the cradle.

He’s doing so much.  
Yet he still doesn’t feel like he’s enough.  
She can sense it.

“Do you really think I’m going to be a good father?” He asks her once, in the middle of a sleepless night. It sounds genuinely scared and Jemma hurries to take his hand and calming him.

“Yes Fitz. You’re going to be the best father for our child. Just by being who you are.”

“What if who I am isn’t enough for you and the baby …”

“That’s impossible, because I love who you are.”

“But with my backstory … What if I start to do things like my father? If I become more like him. There is something inside of me which maybe would approve if I did.”

He shudders, and she knows he means the shadow from the Framework.  
Months of therapy couldn’t make it disappear. But it became more distant.

“You’re not going to be like your father. You’re going to be you and you’re going to do things out of love and the need to protect, like you always do.”

He nods and seems a bit less worried.

She takes his hand and lays it on her stomach, so he can feel the slight movements the baby is making from time to time.

“This is a wonder,” he whispers sometime. “A true wonder.”

“Yes,” Jemma agrees quietly and lays her hand on his. "It is."

* 

In another night, Jemma is the one who starts to feel scared.

 _What if I’m going to do something wrong?_ She asks herself and bites her lip until she tastes blood. _What if something happens to our daughter because of me? What if …_

“Jemma.”  
Fitz moves closer to her and wraps his arms around her.  
It’s like he senses her distress.  
“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m just … thinking too much. About what could go wrong.”

“Don’t be scared, Jemma. Everything is going to be alright.”

“Yes … You’re going to stay with me, aren’t you?” She asks, cuddling up against him.

“Of course,” he says and runs a hand through her hair. “I don’t want to see you in pain, you know. The thought alone is … it’s difficult to imagine it. But I’m not going to leave your side and we do this together.”

She almost starts to cry at the wave of affection she feels for him.  
“Yes. Together,” she repeats.

Because it’s the only way for them.

*

In the end, everything happens astonishingly quick.

Fitz is holding her hand the whole time. Jemma’s pressing it hard. But he never moves or says something.  
He’s just there. A soothing presence between all the foreign nurses.

When the pain fades and she hears a scream, Jemma knows their life just changed in a unbelievable wonderful and exciting way and her eyes tear up.

The next moment, she finally holds her baby. A light weight on her chest, soft and warm.

  
Fitz and Jemma look at their daughter in awe, their hands tightly intertwined.

Wide open blue eyes, sparkling with new life.

It’s a beautiful sight.


	21. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz has a bad day. Jemma helps. (Quite angsty in the beginning)

Fitz takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes and tries to focus his thoughts on something. Anything.

But it’s pointless.

His mind is too much of a mess today.

He’s sitting on the floor of the bathroom and can literally feel how he's slipping.  
It’s like protocol.  
A familiar hint of vague fear. His throat tightens, and his heart starts to beat faster.  
Next comes the feel of dissociation and he has to grip something to remind himself what's real.  
This is how his panic attacks look like most of the times.

But today is worse. Today the voices in his head come out to mock him.

He hasn’t hallucinated this bad for quite a while now.

He calls himself stupid for still not being able to get rid of them. The Doctor agrees and additionally calls him a pathetic weakling.

It’s a never-ending circle.

 _I wish it would stop_ , he thinks dully. _Just stop …_

“Fitz.”

Fitz frowns.

Jemma’s voice this time. This is good and bad at the same time. Good because it could mean Jemma is back from her therapy session in town and he isn’t alone anymore. Bad because it could just be another hallucination. He’s too scared to find out the truth, so he keeps his eyes closed for now.

A warm hand touches his cheek and he flinches.

“Open your eyes Fitz.”

Hallucinations has never been able to touch him so far. He feels a hint of hope and opens his eyes slightly.

He blinks into the too bright light of the bathroom’s fluorescent lamps and makes out Jemma’s blurry figure in front of him. Her hand is still on his cheek. It feels solid. Real.

She smiles at him.  
“There you are. Bad day?”

Fitz nods.

Jemma strokes his arm.  
“Let’s go downstairs, alright? It’s cold in here.”

She takes his hand and he gets up slowly.  
For a moment his legs feel weak and the world sways around him.  
_How long have I been sitting there on the floor_ , he wonders, while staggering down the stairs after Jemma.

She makes him sit down on the couch in the living room and pulls a blanket over his shoulders.

“I’m going to make some tea, alright? I’ll be right back.”  
She disappears into the kitchen.

Fitz looks after her and feels heavy. He’s relieved she’s back. But he also feels the first hint of angry disappointment at himself again. Why can’t he be better? Why can’t he be stronger …

“Don’t get lost in your head again, love,” Jemma says softly, suddenly standing in front of him again. She hands him a steaming mug.

Fitz takes it. The warmth feels good on his skin.

Jemma sits beside him and moves close until they’re leaning against each other. She lays her head on his shoulder and strokes over his arm in a slow even rhythm.

“Do you want to talk?” She asks.

Fitz considers it. He doesn’t feel like he would be able to speak now. To form all the mixed up feelings and thoughts in his mind into a straight line of words.  
He shakes his head.

“Okay. Do you want to know about what we talked about?” She asks. “It was rough. Maveth and Will and … all the really bad confusing stuff. I guess it would help me to revise it.”

Fitz nods.  
She has her own demons haunting her. Sometimes it amazes him, when he realizes through how much they went, and still ended up here. In a cottage, together. It’s like a miracle. It would be way better, without their shadows chasing them. But it’s what it is. They can't change the past. They can only process the past and making new happy memories for the future. He accepted this by now, he thinks. But it’s still hard sometimes.  
At least they are together.  
He closes his eyes and focuses on Jemma’s voice.

While he’s listening to her, the tenseness leaves his body bit by bit.  
When he’s able to, he opens his eyes again and hugs her close. Some tears dry on the fabric of his jumper.

Her voice, her touch and her mere real presence give him peace of mind. And he gives it back to her.

Bad days can still get better with each other’s help.


	22. Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team comes to visit Fitz and Jemma in their cottage on Christmas. Fitz feels a bit nervous about it.

Jemma looks at the clock and sighs.  
“So late already … How are the cookies doing?”

Fitz takes a look into the oven and shakes his head.  
“Not finished yet.”

Jemma makes an annoyed sound and starts to frantically cut apples.  
“I wish I had more hands,” she grumbles.

“Hey,” Fitz goes to her and wraps his arms around her from behind, laying his head on her shoulder. “Don’t let this stress you out. It doesn’t matter if not everything is ready when they arrive.”

“I know. But … it’s the first time we invite someone home to a feast. I want it to be perfect,” Jemma explains in a determined voice. 

“It is perfect. Even if it takes a few more minutes until they can eat your cookies.”

Jemma smiles at him.  
“My cookies aren’t that great. It’s your roast and sauce that will get the most raised eyebrows and impressed whistles,” she tells him.

Fitz shrugs.  
“I don’t think so. It’s not that good. I forgot the rosemary …”

“You’re too humble, love.”

~

Fitz knows that Jemma was looking forward to this day for three whole weeks.

Their old team is visiting for Christmas.

Jemma spent days with planning out a schedule for everything.

Fitz is awaiting the visit with a mixture of anxious worry and careful joy.

Since they left Shield to recover in a cottage on the countryside of Scotland, quite a long time has passed.

He hasn’t had seen anyone beside Jemma, Deke and his therapist for months.

And now the whole team is going to see him. They are going to look at him, are going to have their thoughts about him and maybe will ask him questions about how he is. He doesn’t know if he will know the answers. Things are still blurry sometimes.

He just hopes he won’t spoil the mood.  
It seems like that’s something he’s good at.

~  
  
“Are you nervous?” Jemma asks him on the evening before the special day.

Fitz shrugs.  
“A bit, maybe? It’s been a long time.”

“Yes. I know. But Fitz … You don’t need to worry at all, alright? I know everything changed. But their feelings for you, they’re still the same. They care for you deeply. You know that they have been asking me the whole time how you are, how we are, and if we’re ready to see them, do you?”

“I know, Jemma. Still … the things that happened are always there. The things Daisy, Mack and May remember … They have all those painful memories. I just don’t know how I’m going to feel when they’re around. I … I think in theory, I can deal with all those things a lot better than in the past … but still. I can’t forget what they, what you, remember and feel. It’s a mess,” he sighs. 

“Oh Fitz. You know, if you’re feeling overwhelmed, you don’t need to stay the whole time. No one will judge you, if you take a break and leave the room. Just … wait how you’re going to feel and how much you can bear, alright?”

“Okay. I want you to have a wonderful day, Jemma. I know you’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Yes, but I can only enjoy it if I know you’re not uncomfortable, Fitz. So please, just tell me if you’re not okay, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now let’s cuddle for a while. I’m cold … I feel like it’s the coldest December of all times.”

~

Coulson and May are the first.

They arrive holding hands and while May is still well tanned, Coulson looks even paler than usual beside her. Maybe he’s still recovering, Fitz thinks, while watching from the door, how Jemma welcomes them.  
He’s still incredibly happy they managed to find a cure in the literally last minute.

“Fitz,” Coulson says warmly, looking at him with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Sir,” Fitz answers, reaching out a hand.

But Coulson shakes his head and pulls him into a hug.  
First, Fitz tenses in surprise. But after a second, he relaxes. It feels good. It’s good that Coulson is still there. He’s always been comfort and anchor at the same time in a lot of difficult situations.

May hugs him too, which is the bigger surprise.  
But then, he knows what she probably remembers, and it makes sense.

Mack and Elena arrive next and they bring a lot of cake with them.

When Mack walks through the door, bending his head because he’s too tall for the doors, Fitz feels a rush of joy.  
He missed Mack.

Mack’s hug is no surprise at all. It feels familiar and warm.

“Good to see you, Turbo,” Mack says honestly and Fitz nods, not able to speak because he’s a bit overwhelmed. But not in a bad way. Not yet. (And hopefully never on that day)

The last one to arrive is Daisy.

She hugs Jemma for a long moment and then looks at Fitz, who’s standing at the door.

Jemma looks between them with a smile and hurries back inside.

For a moment, there’s silence. It’s like they’re waiting for who’s going to make the first step.

“Hey,” Daisy says softly.

“Hey,” Fitz answers, nervously shifting his weight.

“You’re quite hard to find. I missed the right slip road two times,” Daisy tells him, a small smile spreading on her face. 

“Sorry,” Fitz says, for some reason.

Daisy shrugs.  
“Well. I’m here now.”

She suddenly starts to rummage in her bag, a concentrated frown on her face.  
“Um. This is for you.”  
She hands him a gift, wrapped in red fancy paper with stars on it.

Fitz takes it, turning it around in his fingers.  
“I … Thank you, Daisy.”

She smiles at him. Before she goes past him inside the cottage, she lays her hand on his shoulder for a very short, but important moment.

“Merry Christmas, Fitz.”

~

The feast is delicious and everyone praises Fitz’s roast, like Jemma has predicted.

They talk a lot. Mostly about what everyone has done since they separated.

They also laugh a lot. The mood is light and uncomplicated.

Fitz feels a bit tired after some time, but he doesn’t feel overwhelmed or anxious, which is a happy surprise for him.

He just feels good, to be in the middle of people he loves and who care about him.

When Coulson asks him, how he is, he says, “I’m okay. There are good and bad days. But the good ones are more common now.”

They all nod. And that’s it.

Much later, when everyone found a place to sleep, Fitz carefully unwraps Daisy’s present.

He gasps quietly, when he holds it in his hands.

It’s a framed picture of him, Jemma and Daisy. From the past. It was clearly made on the Bus. They were so young … They all smile and have a certain glee in their eyes that's not there anymore, replaced by seriousness. Fitz didn’t even know Daisy had a picture. For a moment he asks himself who took it, but then he focuses on the other thing, Daisy has gifted him. It’s a small heap of video games. Some of them are those, he was playing with Mack sometimes. Some are new.   
Fitz smiles.

There’s also a note:

 _The past to remind ourselves, that we're more than that. That there's a bond between us._  
_The future for new happy memories._  
_I'm looking forward to them. We deserve them._

“Yeah,” Fitz whispers. “We do. We really do.”


	23. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by LibbyWeasley: Celebration = FS baby’s first Christmas (they would try to do something special and it would backfire because the baby is teething or has colic...but then realize that it is already something special)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For LibbyWeasley, who gave me such a lovely prompt I almost managed to write 2000 words.  
> Thank you so much <3  
> I hope you like it a bit.

It’s their daughter Peggy’s first Christmas.

Jemma and Fitz agree on that there is nothing more magical than a baby’s first Christmas.

They imagine wide open astonished eyes which are reflecting the lights of the Christmas tree. They picture excited babbling noises and happy bright baby-smiles.

It has to be special, they know.

Really special.

Their plan is well thought through. Photos by the tree. A visit with Santa in the mall. A special first gift, that can be brought out every year – a bound copy of "The Night Before Christmas" – and a self-made personalized ornament.

Yes. They are well prepared.

But in the end, this certain Christmas is special in a completely unexpected way.

*

It starts in the middle of the night.

High-pitched screams wake Fitz and Jemma abruptly and causes their black cat Toothless to scream back in a very annoyed way.

“I’ll go to her,” Fitz murmurs drowsily, sitting up and blinking into the void.

“You’re sure?” Jemma asks, turning on her back and yawning.

“Yeah. It was your turn last time.”

“Okay …” Jemma murmurs barely audible and Fitz is quite sure she’s already asleep again, when he managed to get up and reaches into the cradle to take Peggy into his arms. His daughter is sweaty and hot, her little hands clenched into tight fists. Fitz frowns. Is that normal? He just hopes she isn’t sick. Not now …

He goes downstairs with her, all the while speaking soothing words into her ears. Which really doesn’t help much.  
She doesn’t stop her ear-piercing screaming.

When he comes into the living room with her and switches the light on, Toothless gives them an exasperated look from the top of her cat tree and turns around gracefully.

Fitz sits down on the couch with Peggy and rubs her heaving back.

After a while, his daughter seems to grow tired. He starts to hum one of her favourite lullabies hopefully, and rocks her softly.  
She finally falls back asleep, her head falling on his shoulder. She drools on his neck.

Fitz sighs relieved and gets up carefully, only to sit down quickly again, because she immediately opens her eyes and restarts screaming.

He starts humming and rocking again, until she dozes off. But this time, he remains stitting on the couch. He’s cold and his back is aching, but at least his daughter is asleep, and he really slept in worse positions, he thinks resigned.

In the next hours, he dozes off from time to time, only to sometimes startle awake, because Peggy squeals or Toothless decides to claw his leg hoping she would get her food early.

Sometime, when it’s already dawning outside, Fitz changes Peggy’s diaper, which is quite complicated with a baby which cries and squirms the whole time.

After that, they both doze off on the couch again for a short while.

In the morning, he feels absolutely crushed. His eyes burn and his whole body feels numb. He shifts around and groans. Peggy opens her eyes and immediately starts screaming again.

Fitz sighs.

He can’t believe such a tiny baby is able to scream so much.

After a while, Jemma comes into the room, rubbing her eyes.  
“I’ll take her,” she says.

Fitz nods and hands her Peggy.  
“Did you sleep?” He asks.

Jemma shrugs.  
“A bit. But it wasn’t good sleep. Oh God Fitz, did you sleep here on the couch?”

“Yeah. It was okay,” Fitz answers. “At least Peggy was able to sleep a bit. But, Jemma, I don’t think it’s normal what’s going on with her.”

“Hmm. I think so too. We're going to have to watch her carefully,” Jemma mumbles. “I’m going to try to feed her now. You can go and shower, alright?”

“Okay.”

They look at each other, both heavy bags under their glassy eyes.

“Not the best start of our special Christmas,” Fitz says with a crooked grin.

Jemma laughs.  
“No. Not really. But I guess it only can get better now.”

She’s wrong.

*

After he took a shower and almost fell asleep under the hot stream of water, Fitz decides to get their Christmas tree.

He takes an axe and goes into the forest behind their cottage. He has asked the forest ranger for permission a few weeks ago. He picks a tree very carefully. It takes a while until he finds one, that doesn’t have a crooked top or missing branches.

To log the tree goes surprisingly easy and he feels relived, that something is working well. That’s a good sign, he guesses.

By the time he managed to carry the tree into the cottage, he’s sweating and breathless.  
He carefully lays the tree on the ground for a moment and catches his breath.  
Toothless jumps off the cat tree and comes to inspect the huge fir, her tale switching in excitement.

Fitz puts the tree on the Christmas tree stand and backs away to look at his work.  
The fir stands straight and looks good in front of the fireplace, which is already fired, because it’s really cold today.

Fitz nods satisfied. The first thing that worked today. Excellent.

He decides to go to fetch their bauble boxes from upstairs next.  
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he tells Toothless sternly, who looks up at him with innocent golden eyes.

*

There are many boxes. First Fitz considers to go twice. But then he shrugs and thinks he can manage to carry them all at once.

Which is a mistake.

He can’t see over the heap of boxes in his arms and sways down the stairs.

The next moment he loses the ground under his feet. He trips and topples. The boxes with the baubles fall on the ground. Fitz hears a shattering sound and grimaces. A sharp pain shoots through his knees, when he lands on them.

When Fitz looks up, he sees Toothless jumping into his perfect Christmas tree with a happy meow and he yells “NO!” while trying to get up without tripping over the red and blue baubles, that are rolling over the ground around him.

He sees the tree falling like in slow motion.

His eyes widen when he realizes where exactly it’s falling to.

Right into their fireplace.

“NO!” He yells again, while Toothless is jumping out of the fir needles with a shocked noise and bristled fur.

By the time Fitz is finally able to move, the flames have already taken over his tree and it’s actually burning like a candle.

He jumps to his feet cursing and runs to the window. He grabs a white curtain, rips it off carelessly and slaps it on the burning tree frantically.

Thankfully, the fire goes out quite quickly. The fir isn’t a good firewood. 

Fitz drops the destroyed curtain.

In the distance, he can hear Peggy screaming again. He wants to scream too. Scream and cry. 

He sits down on the ground, breathing heavily and just stares at what is left of his carefully picked out Christmas tree. The perfect top is charred.

Toothless stands in front of him and looks up at him questioningly.

Fitz looks at her and sighs.  
“This is the worst Christmas ever, isn't it,” he says and shakes his head.

Jemma comes into the room, carrying their daughter, who finally seems exhausted and now only squeaks unhappy now and then.  
“Fitz. I think we really have to get her to a doctor. She could have a colic,” Jemma says with a deep sigh. The next moment she freezes. “What …”  
She takes in the sight of the half-burned Christmas tree from which smoke is ascending, the curtain on the ground that’s black and littered with holes, and the baubles, that are spread over the ground.  
She looks from Toothless to Fitz and tilts her head.

Fitz looks up at her with a numb expression on his face.  
“I tripped on the stairs.”

“Oh.” Jemma bites her lip. Suddenly she looks like she has to supress laughter. “Um. Well. Peggy isn’t well Fitz. We should let her be checked through.”

Fitz sighs.  
“Okay. But I guess our doctor is already in her Christmas holidays. Let’s drive to the hospital.”

*

They have to wait hours at the hospital. And miss the Santa event at the mall because of that. Of course.

Peggy continues to cry and scream in those hours.

Some people throw them annoyed looks, but Fitz couldn’t care less. He feels like he hasn’t slept for days. And he can’t believe their Christmas is that bad. He feels like a failure and doesn’t even really know why. But Jemma throws him knowing looks from time to time, and sometime lays her hand on his.  


Peggy has indeed a colic. The doctor tells them how they can relief her discomfort, like by pressing on her tummy carefully.  
She also tells them it could take up to six weeks until the symptoms are over.

When they arrive home, they’re greeted by the still lingering smell of burned wood and by the sight of Toothless, playing happily with the baubles on the floor.

Peggy is finally sleeping and Jemma lays her into her cradle as carefully as possible.

She looks at Fitz.  
“Tea?” She whispers.

Fitz nods.  
“Tea.”

*

When they’re sitting on the couch in the living room side by side, Jemma asks him quietly, “Are you alright?”

Fitz shrugs.  
“I had worse Christmases,” he mumbles, looking at his feet. “I’m just … I’m sorry it isn’t what you wanted …"

“Fitz, no … It’s not your fault. We just had a … a bad luck day. That happens." 

“But we wanted it to be special. For Peggy. And now it’s just … it’s … ruined,” he says, desperately wringing his hands.

Jemma shakes her head and lays a hand on his shoulder.  
“I don’t think it’s ruined Fitz. I mean okay, there were a few things we didn’t expect and they managed to spoil our mood. But it’s still Christmas. And it’s still special. Because we’re here Fitz. We are living in the cottage of our dreams. We are a family. We have a daughter. A lovely crazy cat. We are together and that’s why this day is special. The last Christmases weren’t like this one. We were always busy with saving the world. Now we have time for ourselves. We can still do the things we wanted. We’ll buy a tree tomorrow. We make photos. Okay, we can’t go to the Santa at the mall but well … I’m sure we can find an outfit and can dress up instead.” She chuckles. “And we can still do the ornament thing. We have everything we need here. I’m sure Peggy will be a bit better tomorrow.”

Fitz looks at her with a smile.  
“You’re right. One bad day means nothing … I love you. I love you and Peggy. And you I love too, you crazy thing,” he tells Toothless, who jumped into his lap and curls up, purring. “Even after you jumped into my tree.”

Jemma laughs.  
“She won’t do that again, I bet. See? She even learned something. And we learned what to do when our baby has colic.”

“Yeah.”

Fitz lays his head on her shoulder and sighs.  
“I’m so damn tired. Let’s just go and sleep until the better day.”

Jemma nods.  
“Good idea.”


	24. Season's Greetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma's daughter Peggy wants to make some Christmas cards. Fitz helps.

“Dad?”

Fitz looks up from his drafts of a new arm prosthesis – after leaving Shield and recovering from years of unprocessed trauma, he decided to start working again. Making prostheses for amputees is just the right thing to do. He did it for Coulson once. Now he’s doing it for all kind of people. Soldiers, children, men and women of every age. It feels good to help again. – and smiles at his daughter Peggy, who’s standing in front of his table, biting her lip.

“Yes, little monkey?”

For a moment he thinks amazed, how much taller she is now, than she was last Christmas. Peggy is now 7 years old. She has Fitz’s blue eyes, but Jemma’s nose and lineaments. Sometimes Fitz and Jemma joke about whose stubborness she has, but it's hard to tell because honestly, they are both really stubborn.

Peggy bounces on her heels in excitement. “I want to make Christmas cards for you and Mum."

“Oh. That’s a nice idea, little monkey,” Fitz says.

Peggy enjoys working with her hands. She draws a lot of beautiful pictures, that are decorating the walls of her room, their fridge and their living room. She also likes to craft.

She said once, she would have fun designing buildings one day, and Fitz can absolutely imagine her doing this.

“But I don’t have a lot of things for it,” Peggy says with a frown. “I need the right paper, and stickers and such things!”

“Of course you do,” Fitz nods. “How about we go to the village today? For some shopping.”

Peggy nods enthusiastically.  
“But,” she says, lowering her voice. “Mum mustn’t know. I want to surprise her.”

Fitz smiles.  
“Okay.”

*

In the car, Peggy rambles on about her plans for the cards for a while.

When Fitz parks the car in front of the art supply store, she asks him,” Did you make cards for your parents too, Dad?”

Fitz nods.  
“Yes. For my mum. Every year.” 

In the car, Peggy rambles on about her plans for the cards for a while.

When Fitz parks the car in front of the art supply store, she asks him,” Did you make cards for your parents too, Dad?”

Fitz nods.  
“Yes. For my mum. Every year.” 

For his dad just once.  
It was one of his many desperate attempts to gain some attention and affection.  
He spent days with the card. He even threw some drafts away with which he wasn’t satisfied. It had to be perfect.

But when he gave his father the card, he scoffed and asked him if he was a girl, because girls use glitter and draw reindeers or snowflakes. Boys don’t.

Fitz had thrown the card in the garbage, feeling a heavy sadness, mixed with frustration and anger, which he - since he didn’t know any better back then - directed towards himself. It was his fault, he thought. He just wasn’t good enough.

After that Christmas, his father disappeared. There were no more attempts then. And by now, after a lot of difficult nerve racking therapy sessions, he knows (and accepts) that it wasn't his fault at all.

Fitz shoves the memory away quickly and focuses on his daughter, who knows without doubt, that her parents are proud and happy about everything she makes.

Peggy tilts her head to the right side and scrunches her nose up. In this certain way she always does it when she’s thinking about something. It looks absolutely adorable.

Finally, she says, “I’m going to make Grandma one too.”

“Okay, little monkey,” Fitz says and smiles. “Come on. Let’s get into the store quickly, it’s snowing again.”

*

When they enter the store, Peggy immediately hurries to the craft stuff, her eyes lightening up.

“Glitter!” She cries out happily and grabs three packs of it. In different colours.

“Ah. I loved that too,” Fitz says, smiling. He nods to the stickers. “You want to pick some of those too?”

“Yes!”

It takes them a lot of time to choose, because there are so many stickers. But they have time and it’s warm inside the store. In the end they take much more than they probably need, but Peggy says happily, that she can gift the rest to her friends in the neighbour village.

After that they fetch a lot of coloured paper and new crayons.

They leave the store with three full bags.

*

When they enter the cottage, Jemma comes out of the living room,

She glances at the bags in their hands and raises an eyebrow.

“What are you two up to?” She asks curiously.

Peggy hides her bag behind her back and shakes her head, a grin spreading on her face.  
“It’s a secret!”

Fitz nods with a serious expression on his face.  
“Yup. A secret.”

Jemma chuckles.   
“Alright. I won’t look.”  
She covers her face with her hands and walks back into the living room.

Peggy laughs, takes Fitz’s hand and pulls him towards her room.

Three cards are a lot of work.

But it’s a lot of fun.

In the end, they have glue and glitter everywhere.

They even have to pick some of it out of their cat Toothless’ silky black fur, who was watching them curiously and tried to play with the scraps of paper.

“Thank you Dad,” Peggy says and begins to shove him out of the room. “I’m going to write messages on them. But you can’t read them before Christmas!”

“Alright, alright,” Fitz laughs. “Bye, little monkey.”

The door closes and he walks to the bathroom. His fingers stick together from all the glue.

*

On Christmas, Peggy gives them her self-made cards with a proud grin.

Fitz’s is green with Rudolf The Red Nosed Reindeer on it. Rudolf’s nose is red glitter.

Fitz smiles and thanks Peggy.  
When he opens the card, he reads

_Dad,_

_Everything we do together is so much fun and I love you. Also thanks for helping with the glitter. You’re the best._

_Merry Christmas from Peggy_

Fitz feels a suspicious burning in his eyes and thinks he might burst into tears any moment.  
He reaches for Peggy and pulls her into a hug.

“I love you too, little monkey,” he whispers in her ear.


	25. Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz wants Christmas to be a magical experience for Peggy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last story!  
> It's a bit short because  
> 1\. No time  
> 2\. No internet! For some reason, we have issues, I had to be creative to be able to post this :/  
> Anyway, thanks so much for: reading, commenting, giving kudos! <3  
> I enjoyed this a lot, altough it was hard sometimes, to post a story each day :D  
> Merry Christmas, everyone! <3

“You’re really looking forward to this, aren’t you?” Jemma asks, watching Fitz wrapping up the gifts for Peggy, with a joyful expression on his face.

He nods.  
“I really am. I can’t wait to see the look in Peggy’s eyes, when she realizes the mince pies are gone and there are gifts in her stockings.”

Jemma chuckles.  
“She’s is so excited already.”

“Yes. I am too. Because of the delicious mince pies, I get to eat.”

“Ugh. You’re lucky I don’t like them at all.”

Fitz smiles.  
This Christmas, Peggy is old enough to feel and experience the magic behind Christmas, without already doubting the story behind it. He knows she can’t wait.

“She asked me a lot of questions about Santa. Where he lives. What he’s doing the rest of the year when it’s not Christmas. If he has a wife,” Jemma says and chuckles.

“Hmm. She drew me a picture of his elves like she’s imagining them,” Fitz says. “She has such a great imagination.”

“I think she got that from you,” Jemma muses.

Fitz shrugs.  
“Maybe. I was quite a daydreamer. My mother always told me I could write books someday. I also believed in Santa quite strong. I did a lot of research and wanted to find out where he lives. But my father told me to stop. He said only idiots believe in such stories.”  
His gaze darkens momentarily.  
“He also said fairy tales are for babies.”

Jemma shakes her head.  
“He’s got no idea, Fitz. Stories, fairy tales, are for everyone. It’s great to have a colourful imagination. We can learn a lot from stories.”

“Yeah. That’s true,” Fitz says. He sighs. “My father took the magic out of my childhood. I don’t want that happen to Peggy. She should be allowed to dream and remember later, how nice it has been, to be excited for Santa.”

He gets up and puts the gifts into Peggy’s stocking at the fireplace.  
“I think, I’m going to leave some footprints,” he says, looking at the ash in the fireplace, smiling. “To make it more exciting.”

“You would be an amazing Santa,” Jemma tells him, grinning.

Fitz shakes his head.  
“No. We both know it would be the other way round. You’re the organisation talent of us two. I would be a terrible Santa. I would be much better as an helping elve.”

They laugh.

“Is Peggy asleep already?” Fitz asks.

“Well, she said she wanted to stay awake to wait for Santa,” Jemma says.

They go to throw a glance into Peggy’s room and chuckle.

Their daughter is sound asleep. She’s snoring softly. Toothless, their black cat, is curled up beside her.

Fitz and Jemma smile at each other and close the door carefully.

*

In the morning, Peggy gasps and points at the empty plate beside the Christmas tree.

“Santa! He ate the mince pies!” She cries excited, bouncing on her heels. “All of them!”

Jemma grins at Fitz.

The next moment, Peggy discovers the gifts in her stockings and cheers. She takes them and sits down on the ground to unwrap them, while Toothless curiously sits beside her, playing with the gift ribbon.

She looks up at her parents, her eyes sparkling in excitement and joy.  
“Next time, I’m going to see him,” she says seriously.

“Maybe, little monkey,” Fitz says and smiles at her.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and always grateful for being corrected! I'm constantly trying to improve my English, so please don't hesitate to tell me about mistakes. <3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


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